


The Battle - Part Two

by ArtemisArcher83



Series: B Series [14]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisArcher83/pseuds/ArtemisArcher83
Summary: 14th instalment of my B-Series. With Helena still reeling from the attacks on her wife and son, she struggles to keep the darkness and old habits at bay and hold her family together. While HG licks her wounds, Myka copes with being thrown into a life that she can't remember. And now that he has them distracted, what more does Alexander's heir have planned for the Wells-Bering family?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again! Hope you've all managed to hold onto your seats while waiting for my lazy fingers and brain to whip up another part to this saga.
> 
> As usual, I've spent hours agonising over how this next part has unfolded. I had planned more action, but it ended up as more of a metaphorical battle to deal with the fallout from the last part. I have tried to keep the underlying story moving along, so I'm hoping that you don't find it too slow. I'm fairly happy with it anyway and am ready to throw it out there for all to criticise... and enjoy, hopefully.
> 
> Rated M for violence, death, a few curses here and there, and maybe some adult antics. Warning for angst and adorable children.

** Chapter One **

_There was something emboldening about facing a foe while surrounded by loved ones. Fear for their safety became determination to protect; anger at the threat became a fire pumping adrenaline; and the understanding of their unwavering love and support sparked a depth of faith that none could put asunder._

_Sacrifices would be honoured. Those who’d already lost their lives for the cause would be remembered and mourned, but that would have to wait. Not one more could fall from their ranks and, as she took one final glance at the ensemble gathered behind her, she vowed to make a fact of that statement._

_Ignoring any worried looks from the small crowd, she gathered the last of her strength and stepped boldly forward, disappearing into the dark heart of the Warehouse…_

Eyes fluttering open and blinking away the already forgotten vision, Christina looked over her brother’s convalescent bed, dutifully checking the monitors for any change. Satisfied that Freddy was stable, the future warrior stretched and rubbed crusty remains from her face, unaware of the mountains she had yet to climb.

* * * * *

Despite Myka and Helena’s developing truce on the plane, the journey back to Boulder in the airport taxi was conducted in tense silence. Of the two passengers, one dreaded their arrival – where they would have to face a life unknown – and the other fidgeted impatiently – unable to contain the need to be with her children.

Thrice, Christina had contacted her mother to update HG on the situation. First, when they’d found Fredrick in the forest, again when they’d reached the hospital and a third time to reassure the regent that Fredrick was out of any immediate danger. Helena had found little comfort; she needed to see her children and feel their warmth to reaffirm the fact that they were real.

Without her wife’s support, it was harder to keep her spirits up and focus on the positives. She tried to recall the sudden influx of feeling that Myka had pushed at her just before their connection began to unravel. The brunette must have known what was going to happen to her – must have anticipated losing any memory of their reconciliation since Egypt and wanted to send Helena a sign that Myka… _her_ Myka… was still with her. It was a tether, however small, and she intended to hold onto it with every ounce of effort she had left.

On the other side of the back seat, sitting as far away from the inventor as was possible in the tight space, Myka stared out of the window and watched the strangely familiar scenery whizz by. After witnessing HG’s distress on the plane, she realised that she was even more out of her depth than she’d first thought. No matter what Helena thought, Myka _did_ care about the injured boy in the woods and the stressed young woman on the other end of the Farnsworth, but it was little more than the kind of caring she felt for all innocents when they were caught in the crosshairs of life’s tragic events.

She needed space – to be away from the person who had torn her apart, to give her brain time to process the last two days, and to figure out her next move. Much as she knew that voicing her thoughts would hurt Helena, her still present feelings of betrayal and heartache pushed her towards more selfish choices. If there was a large dose of fear in there also, she chose to ignore it. Regardless of her negative tendencies at the moment though, she had seen a different side to her companion that day and her natural compassion made her want to approach the subject carefully.

“Someone should take the luggage back to… the house,” she blurted more bluntly than intended. Though her voice was soft when her words finally made their way from her brain to her mouth, in the harsh absence of conversation, they sounded jarring.

HG heard the words but took a few seconds to process them. She became momentarily stuck on the barely perceivable pause before the words ‘the house’, as if Myka’s brain hadn’t known how to qualify their dwelling. A part of her appreciated the effort: ‘your house’ would have felt like a knife to the heart and ‘our house’, she understood, was too foreign to the brunette. Though it still hurt that simply saying ‘home’ was not natural to her companion. After over-analysing the syntax, she turned her attention to the question hidden in Myka’s words – was she expected to be at the hospital with Helena or was it ok to escape for a while?

HG closed her eyes and fought back the tears. “Yes. Thank you,” she answered, deciding to be kind. “I will likely not be home tonight, so feel free to help yourself to anything you need. I will ask either Pete or my grandparents to have Catherine overnight; you won’t have to concern yourself with us until tomorrow.” She meant the statement to be comforting but as she heard the words tumble from her mouth, she knew that they tasted bitter. A small, shuddering breath betrayed the struggle with her emotions and the pair fell into another awkward silence.

The tense atmosphere in the car was suffocating for both passengers and it was with profound relief that HG opened her door and stepped out. She gave the driver the details for his next destination, offered the other regent a half-hearted wave and jogged hurriedly into the hospital, slinging her handbag over her shoulder as she moved.

Much of the next fifteen minutes was spent trying not to abuse the hospital staff as she waited for them to tell her which room her son was in. As well as wanting to see him, she didn’t want too much time to think. Images of her wife bombarded her – from the supportive determination as they began their mission, to the anger and hurt shot her way as Myka tried to make sense of her surroundings, and now the removed sympathy and detachment of a stranger. It hurt. In a way that she didn’t yet understand, it hurt, and so she was deliberately trying not to think on it.

As she was given directions and hastened along the labyrinth’s twists and turns to the paediatric ICU, she managed to force a lid on her spousal concerns and prepared herself for what she might find. Around the final bend, she spotted her eldest pacing the corridor and slowed her steps. The moment Christina saw her, HG opened her arms, offering the comfort and reassurance that they both needed.

“Mum!” the young woman gasped as she surged forward and fell into her mother’s arms. She was all cried out so there wasn’t much in the way of tears when they pulled back to look at one another, but she sobbed with tired relief anyway when the inventor reached up to wipe evidence of sorrow from her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I thought I had everything covered. I’d just decided to ask you and Ma to come home when… everything just happened so quickly and you were so far away…”

Helena watched her baby’s face crumple and pulled her back into another crushing hug. Guilt, that she’d managed thus far to fight with logic, rose in her throat. “Christina, love, you found your brother, he’s alive and safe. You did all you could and I have no doubt that you were wonderful.”

“I should have made them stay at home,” Christina murmured into a wrinkled shirt.

Leaning back again, the mother looked into the girl’s sorrow-filled eyes and tried to impart a wisdom that had eluded her for years, “Love, we cannot let fear dictate our every action. When Myka first returned you to me, I was terrified. I could not comprehend a time that I would be able to let you out of my sight. If I had allowed that feeling to control me, the last fifteen years would have seen us all imprisoned beneath my fear.” HG waited for Christina to process and come to terms with those statements before she moved on. “Is your brother awake?” she asked softly.

Shaking her head, Christina side-stepped to let her mother see through the door’s window into Freddy’s room. “The nurse gave him some painkillers. He’s been asleep for about an hour.”

“Let us talk inside then,” Helena suggested. She squeezed her daughter’s hand comfortingly and stepped through the double doors.

No amount of premeditation could have prepared HG for seeing her little boy lying broken in a hospital bed. Her heart leapt into her throat as she took him in and though she longed to throw her arms around him, she restrained herself and placed a loving kiss against his forehead. Her fingertips stroked through the wavy locks of hair that lay unusually limp and pushed them out of the way. Anger surged through her veins as each bruise and abrasion caught her eye. Fists clenched of their own accord, preparing for a fight, and she had to force them to relax. She felt Christina’s eyes on her and sank into the chair beside the head of the bed, shoving hard on the emotions clambering over one another in the back of her mind.

“What happened?” Helena asked as calmly as she could.

On the opposite side of the bed, the eldest Wells-Bering child wiped her palms on the scuffed material of her jeans, opened her mouth to begin and then paused abruptly. “Wait,” she started in a tone that filled her mother with mild trepidation. “Where’s Ma?” She watched as the inventor froze before the regent’s dark eyes filled with tears. “Mum? She did come home with you, right?” The churning that had already filled her gut bubbled up for an entirely new reason.

“Yes,” HG answered woodenly. “She’s taken our luggage back to the house.” It suddenly occurred to her that she had somewhat promised Myka that the house would be empty and at that moment, she had no idea where her youngest child was. Panic snuck up on her again and wrapped its limbs around her. “Where’s your sister!?”

Christina watched the dawning horror on her mother’s face and felt a sudden clarity fill her. While she had been dealing with a lot at home, trying to protect her siblings, something bad – something very bad – had happened between her parents during their Australian mission.

“With Grandma Elle and Grandpa,” she answered quickly, not giving the regent time to simmer in her worry. “Cat wanted to stay here – she had a bit of a meltdown when I tried to make her go home with Uncle Pete – but I managed to persuade her to go and look after the old people.” She smirked a bit and congratulated herself for managing to elicit a tiny chuckle from her mother.

“Do not let them hear you say that,” Helena cautioned. “Norie especially will take it as a challenge. The last thing I need presently is my grandmother climbing trees to make a point.”

They both chuckled at the image but the sound was short-lived. “Mum, what happened? Why isn’t Ma here?”

HG sucked in a long breath. “Your mother was affected by an artefact. In hindsight, I believe that we… that I… was lured out there by the promise of answers to my teleporting needs, and someone used the trip as an opportunity to place a wedge between Myka and myself.” She paused to fight back the tightening in her throat. Her fingers twitched to pull through her hair but she couldn’t even summon the energy to lift her arms. “Myka does not remember any of her life past the events in Egypt where I betrayed her.”

“Oh, Mum,” Christina whispered solemnly. The hollowness in her mother’s voice made her want to jump up and pull the regent close, but a raised hand stopped her in her tracks. She read the signal for what it was – a plea not to agitate an open wound. At least, not in their current location. She ignored the little girl in the back of her mind, who wanted to know more: who wanted to know if her American mother had forgotten _her_ too. Those answers would have to wait until later.

“Your turn,” HG offered not unkindly, but with a firm finality.

Nodding, the young woman turned back to her brother and reached out to wrap her hand gently around his wrist. “I started getting these strange feelings – like being watched – shortly before you guys left,” she began, the regret she felt clear in her tone. “I should have said something then, but I didn’t really think much of it.”

Helena nodded. “It is easy in hindsight to imagine that you should have chosen differently, but life is never that clear in the present moment, darling.”

Tears gathered behind the young woman’s closed lids. She had been so angry with herself for hesitating, and so afraid that her parents would blame her for Freddy’s condition that, on hearing the absolution in her mother’s voice, the weight of an anvil lifted from her shoulders. She scrubbed at her eyes and inhaled a shuddering lungful of air. Seeing the inventor shift as if to approach her, Christina mirrored her mother’s earlier gesture, signalling her desire to be left alone, for now.

“Thomas called his team in and we made preparations. We had someone keeping an eye on Cat and Rick, looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary. But we didn’t know for sure that there _was_ anything to worry about until yesterday morning.” Her eyes drifted over her brother’s prone form as she listened to her own words and recalled that feeling of uncertainty. It really had happened so quickly. Her siblings had already left for school and she _had_ spent the rest of the morning with the team, planning their defences. “Yesterday morning, Aggie spotted a man in trees not far from the house. He saw her, so we think that’s why he targeted Rick at school.” She stroked over Fredrick’s lower arm, wanting him to know that she hadn’t left his side.

In her mind’s eye, she still saw the vivid images of her brother’s crumpled form lying unconscious against a tree – blood weeping from his shoulder. Her Uncle Pete had buckled under the power of his sixth sense seconds before they heard the gun shot in the distance. She’d been the first one tearing through the branches, with no consideration for her own wellbeing, in search of her beloved twin. Their lifelong connection grew stronger with close proximity and it took no more than a minute, maybe two, before she was by his side and doing everything in her power to remember her basic medical training while panic tried to consume her.

As she returned to the hospital room and looked over the bed at her mother, she took a moment to study the inventor’s features – trying to understand what the older woman must be thinking and feeling. “We think Rick was trying to help a fellow student when the man took him. A girl was found unconscious behind the school kitchens.”

HG’s jaw relaxed just enough to allow a small smile before whispering, “My little heroes.”

Christina felt no pride in hearing the compliment, but rather another kind of relief washed through her. “The doctors did a tox-screen and found traces of a tranquilizer in his system. It wasn’t enough to keep him out for the entire time before we found him though; I think Rick had some time to play possum so he could prepare a defence and plan his escape. Tommy went back to the area and found a cabin not far from where we found Rick. It was empty but it’s clear that it was the man’s hideout.”

All through the story, Helena’s mind fought against the demons of her past. With every new piece of information that fell from her daughter’s lips, a spark of rage tore through her limbs. She wanted to find this unnamed man and rip him apart, and every time she saw herself performing that very act, she recalled her own hands torturing the two criminals who had been responsible for Christina’s death.

It had been so long since she’d had to face the dark depths of her own psyche that she felt weak in its presence. She automatically tried to reach out for her mate – to find her anchor – but the emptiness that met her in response just served to make her feel more lost and alone. How was she supposed to do this without Myka? “Where is this man now? Did you find out who he is and what he wants?”

The young woman shook her head, her eyes shining with frustration. “There was no one around by the time we got to Rick. Uncle Pete has borrowed your glasses, since you and Ma had the durational spectrometer, and he’s gone back with Alpha Squad to track him.”

HG’s pursed lips betrayed the effort she was making to keep control but, with a violent expulsion of breath and stiff fingers dragging through her hair, she lost it. Rising from her chair, she stalked to the window and gripped the sill. “What on earth is the point of having trained combatants at our disposal if they cannot protect our family?” she complained before turning back to the room and planting her hands on her hips.

Christina bristled at the comment, feeling it as a personal blow; her boyfriend was one of those trained combatants and one of their best. “I couldn’t have found Rick without them,” she shot back defensively. “He might have bled out before we were anywhere near.” She watched her mother’s face contort painfully and took a breath to control her next words. Instinct told her that this was about more than just her brother. “Did Delta Squad not help you out while you were in Australia?”

Helena thought about waking up to find herself tied to a chair. She had been grateful for the fact that Myka was still with the squad, but in the end, they had been unable to protect her wife. “Yes, though I’m not sure what use it was.” Realising that she was being petulant and venting her pain at those least deserving, she closed her eyes briefly and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “They were very helpful in getting your mother and me back to civilisation and on our journey home.”

“They’re not agents, Mum,” Christina reminded the inventor kindly. “They’re supplements; eyes and ears on the ground to feed back to _us.”_ She rotated slightly to point at the wound on her brother’s shoulder. “Ark would have put himself in front of that bullet if he had been there, you know he would. Is this about Ma?” she added cautiously.

Under the strain of her thoughts, Helena’s body seemed to collapse in on itself and her arms moved to wind tightly across her middle. Her misdirected anger dispersed like little more than ashes in the wind and the tears that she’d been holding onto broke their dam to run rivers down her cheeks. In a complete role reversal, she felt Christina’s arms pulling her into the young woman’s body and found herself clinging to her daughter as if she were a life-raft. Through her quiet sobs, she listened to whispers of encouragement and consolation, grabbing greedily at the comfort they offered until she began to feel her body calming.

Over her eldest’s shoulder, she studied her son’s profile and tried to imagine what her wife would tell her in a situation such as this. Fredrick was alive and his prospects for a full recovery were good; the girls were unharmed; and though Myka was struggling without her memories at the moment, there was no reason why she couldn’t also make a full recovery, in time.

Myka had wanted her to hold onto hope, not lose herself to despair. All could not be lost.

* * * * *

As Myka paid the cab fare and grabbed both suit cases, she began up the driveway and took in her surroundings. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting but the large family house, complete with slightly overgrown lawn and white picket-fence, came as something of a surprise. _This is all ours?_  she thought haltingly. She found her key, slid it into the lock and stepped through the portal with baited breath. The door clicked smoothly shut behind her and she placed the luggage beneath half a dozen hanging possessions before she began to explore.

Each new room seemed larger and more imposing than the last and for the first few minutes, all she saw was a stranger’s home – somewhere she would never choose to live. But then, little things began to pop out at her: marks on the surface of the dinging table that appeared in a certain light to look like the scratchings of someone’s pen; scuffs against the tiled kitchen floor, as if someone had repeatedly rolled something heavy around the room; felt-tip pen that remained faintly on the arm of a sofa; notes scribbled hastily on Post-its and stuck in seemingly random places; a haphazard pile of books almost hiding beside an arm-chair; and nearly clean, but clearly used wellies lines up by the back door.

Even if these clues were not present to evidence life lived in this house, the numerous photographs were impossible to miss. Downstairs, Myka deliberately avoided the images of the women exchanging vows and the professionally-shot family montages, but as she ventured upstairs and alighted on the landing, her eye caught an extended, wall-long display of memories-captured and couldn’t help but move closer.

_A timeline,_ she realised quickly and followed herself, Helena and Christina from outside the bed and breakfast, to a smaller house a few months later (still in South Dakota), then the arrival of a baby boy, Christmases and birthdays, wedding attire and a horse-drawn carriage, the arrival of a baby girl and seemingly endless further milestones – until she’d walked the length of the upstairs. The thought predominant in her mind was the impression that this was a blissfully happy family. Even in the pictures where no one was smiling (in particular, she looked back at the image of her and Helena crashed out in the same armchair, both wearing festive jumpers and looking exhausted), this was the perfect representation of her dream come true.

One question came swiftly to the forefront of her thoughts – could she trust this?

Photos would almost always showcase the best parts of life, so she knew that the story being told across the wall was only a fraction of it. Like the previews of a movie – these were just some of the highlights. She couldn’t afford to pass judgement based on them alone. Aware that her eyes were becoming sorer by the second, she tore them away from the display and scanned the doors that she’d passed.

Opening them systematically, she peeked into one chaotic, but oddly organised room (which she decided after a moment must belong to the youngest, Catherine) and promptly closed it again. She repeated this process four more times, finding a teenage boy’s room, a family bathroom, what she assumed was a guest room, and a slightly abandoned looking third room that could only be Christina’s. Was it coincidence or a twisted kind of luck that took her to all of her children’s bedrooms first? She opened the last door and again, automatically held her breath before stepping into her and Helena’s room.

Once more, Myka was hit by a scene that she hadn’t quite expected. After the clean lines and minimalist feel to the rest of the house, she had expected more of the same, but this was more… sensual?

Not that the rest of the house was cold, by any means. Though she still thought it was overly large, it was warm and perhaps more inviting than she was ready to admit. But the master bedroom was quietly opulent and she felt herself being drawn into it.

“I could really see us living in here,” she whispered to herself as she began to move about the room.

Fingers slid over the velvety, crimson fabric of the bed-spread and curious eyes admired the familiar, intricately woven pattern. _Where have I seen this before?_ she wondered briefly before moving on. A fainting-couch lay half under the window, its green leather looking soft and inviting while surrounded by a carved walnut frame. A well-presented bookcase sat on one side of it and a wide dressing table on the other. A door led into an en-suite (complete with rolltop bath) and a sliding-door wardrobe occupied almost an entire wall between the two entry/exit points. For someone who could only recall having recently kept all of her belongings in one room at a covert bed and breakfast, Myka was in awe of the apparent evolution of her situation in life.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Myka quickly found _her_ side of the bed and sat down. She pulled out the drawers of the bedside table and started to rummage around. As with her handbag, she found comfort in the accustomed things she kept close and in their habitual organisation. It was these small consistencies that allowed her to feel grounded and able to hold back the tide of panic that remained at the back of her thoughts.

Could this really be her life? She wanted to believe it. The depth of her pain in the wake of Helena’s betrayal only existed because she loved the enigmatic Victorian. That hurt and anger was still very close to the surface, but those feelings existed in a web of confusion. She wanted answers and explanations. How could her lover have spent so many nights with her, intimately entwined and whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and still have made the decisions that she had? Was it her? Had Myka done something wrong or given off an aura of being unapproachable? In light of how their relationship stood now, perhaps she had.

Tossing aside the book that she’d idly picked up, she flopped back onto the bed with a grave sigh. Answers were not going to appear out of thin air and though she wanted justification from Helena, she wasn’t ready yet to have that conversation. She couldn’t help but notice how comfortable she found the surface on which she lay. As tempting as it was though, she knew she couldn’t sleep here. The guest bedroom would have to make do, and then tomorrow, she was going to pack a bag and find sanctuary somewhere else for a while.

She wondered whether Helena was thinking about her now or if the inventor was too caught up with her son’s situation. For seventeen years they’d shared a bed and now… But she couldn’t afford to think along those lines; couldn’t afford to fall into the pity-trap that led to neglecting her own needs. While Myka’s absence might be sorely felt by the Brit, her angry, resentful, heartbroken presence could not be better, surely.

Deciding that lingering longer in this sanctuary would lead to thoughts and actions that she couldn’t handle right now, Myka retrieved the luggage from the hallway, placed her own bag in the guest room and Helena’s in the master bedroom. She grabbed enough essentials to last a week and closed the door firmly behind her, vowing not to cross its threshold again until she and HG had had a chance to clear the air.

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, she tried to pretend that she was staying in a guest house and spent most of that time between the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Early in the evening, when she’d decided that she couldn’t possibly keep her eyes open any longer, she finished washing up and began to turn out the lights. Before she could start up the stairs though, a muffled thud caught her attention and she was immediately on high alert.

She followed the sound of scratching toward the rear of the house and listened until she was sure that she had the correct door. After a minute of hearing her heart thump rapidly in her chest, another sound – a plaintive mewl – reached her ear and she let out a breath of relief. She opened the door and found herself eye to eye with a black, bushy-tailed feline. He studied her for a moment, his body frozen, until he apparently decided that she was friend, not foe and jumped down to weave his way around her legs.

Though she hadn’t paid much attention at the time, she recalled Helena’s short tale about the stray that Catherine had rescued from the wilds and how the girl had kept it hidden for a week in the children’s old playhouse while feeding it scraps. She also recalled the grimace on the inventor’s face, giving her the impression that accepting the animal as a permanent feature of the household was given under duress.

A mischievous thought came to mind as she recalled HG’s grumbling regarding Catherine’s persistent attempts to let the animal roam around the house, and after making sure that it had sufficient provisions, Myka deliberately left the door open as she made her way back upstairs.

If she considered her attempt at revenge at all juvenile or petty, it was a thought that didn’t last long. Perhaps a little defiance was what she needed right now.

* * * * *

It was getting late by the time Christina reluctantly left Helena at the hospital with Freddy and drove over to the Wells residence where her great grandparents lived. She called Thomas on the way, caught up with him about his search for her brother’s attacker and discussed Delta team’s report on the mission in Australia. After hanging up, she was tempted to drive straight home, but then thought against it. Her Mum had been falling asleep in the chair by Fredrick’s bed so she knew that her Ma would be crashed out too and Helena had cautioned her about disturbing the brunette too soon. Her own body was beyond sleep, with her mind still whirring at a rate of knots, but something told her that she too would be asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

Quietly, she crept into the Wells’ house and hung up her coat. Feeling a little paranoid, she moved from one external door to another, checking the locks and surrounding windows. Out there somewhere was a member of Alpha Squad, still keeping an eye out for other threats. It eased her mind a little but not entirely. It didn’t hurt to check the perimeter herself. With the house sleepily calm, she made her way upstairs, used the bathroom facilities and then entered the room that was usually reserved for her.

As predicted, once the lights were out and her head was encompassed by synthetic comfort, she began to drift. She could feel the entire week like a mammoth sitting on her chest and before long, disjointed images swam in her vision. Before she could get too carried away by the gathering storm of disturbed spirits, her external senses alerted her to another’s presence and she jerked awake with a sharp gasp.

“Oh! Catherine,” she whispered with harsh relief, “what are you doing still awake? It’s almost midnight.” Despite her irate tone, she moved aside to make space for the eleven-year-old and pulled the covers around the both of them.

Beneath the small canopy of the duvet, Cat’s eyes shone with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. “I was waiting for Mum and Mama. Where are they?”

With that question, Christina suddenly realised how confusing and disconcerting the last twenty-four hours must have been for her young sister. Though having their mothers so far away was difficult for all of them, Catherine had shown remarkable resilience and had surprised everyone with her mature attitude. They had expected more tantrums to go with the occasional tear but, other than the tired outburst at the hospital, had received nothing of the sort. (At least they could always count on her being unpredictable.) Being dragged out of school in the middle of the day and bunkered up in their house while her brother was in unknowable danger was not something any of them should have expected her to weather without some sort of reassurance though.

“Mum’s still at the hospital with Rick,” the young adult replied gently. “Mama is at home…” She didn’t quite know how to explain Myka’s condition and wondered, hoped that the pre-teen might be too tired to enquire further, so she left her sentence open.

“Can’t we go home then?” the girl pushed. “It’s only down the road.”

Christina threaded her fingers through her sister’s hair, knowing that the touch would help to sooth some of those worries. If she was lucky, it might also hypnotise Catherine enough to send her to sleep. “Everyone’s really tired, Kitty-Cat. I expect Mama is asleep and we would do well to rest up so that we can be up bright and early.”

“Am I allowed to see Freddy tomorrow? Is he ok?”

The young woman smiled slowly. “Yes, we will see everyone tomorrow. Mum won’t be very well rested after spending the night sleeping in a chair, so we’re going to need to give her all the help we can, ok?

“Ok,” Catherine whispered with a hint of enthusiasm.

“That means we have to sleep now,” Christina insisted as she fluffed up her pillow again and face-planted into it.

A long moment of silent anticipation passed before another timid whisper came from the eleven-year-old, “Chrissy, can I stay here and sleep with you?”

A compassionate eye peered into the dark. “Of course, you can,” she answered without hesitation and reached out to pull the girl closer. “I love you, little sister,” she whispered into the nearest ear. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I won’t,” Cat whispered back. Several seconds ticked by and both sisters were on the cusp of sleep before another thought popped into the young girl’s mind, making its way rapidly to the surface. “Chrissy?”

“Mmm-hm?” Christina grumbled patiently.

“I miss Spyder,” Catherine confessed.

The aspiring agent chuckled. “I’m sure he’s managed to find his way into the house somehow and is keeping your bed warm for you. I’ll bet _he_ is fast asleep and not keeping people awake,” she added teasingly.

“Ok, sorry.” The girl turned over so that she could snuggle back into the larger body of her sister and pulled handfuls of blanket close around her shoulders and neck. “Goodnight,” came her muffled voice before she switched off completely and succumbed to sleep at last.

Though dreams threatened to drag her down, Christina resisted the pull for several minutes as a new thread of thought wove through her brain. She had promised her sister that they would see all of their family the following day, but would their Mama even want to see them? The thought that she might not made her stomach twist in knots and she was reminded of being an eight-year-old child, travelling back to the Victorian era with Myka, and meeting a young HG Wells who had no idea that she and her were mother and daughter.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely welcome back! :-D  
> On with the next chapter...

** Chapter Two **

After a night of exhausted, broken sleep, Myka fell out of slumber to the sound of loud purring and the feeling of being watched. She cursed her decision to allow the cat free rein at first but then remembered with a jolt where she was and panicked at the thought that the family… her family… could be home. It was with a mixture of relief and disappointment that she discovered the house to be just as empty as when she’d arrived and, before she could examine her actions or feelings too closely, she finished packing her bag, checked that her furry companion had enough food and water, and picked up the set of keys she’d used the previous night.

It didn’t occur to her that she’d actually chosen a destination until she was on the highway, heading out of Denver and towards Colorado Springs.

She’d asked Claudia about her parents, fearing that with almost two decades missed that there was a good chance they had passed on. While she’d been momentarily alarmed by the news that they no longer lived at the bookshop, there was something surprisingly gratifying about the knowledge that she and Helena now co-owned it. ‘Bering and Wells Books’ thrilled and terrified her all at the same time - a confusing sensation that she was quickly becoming accustomed to. As she entered her home town almost two hours later and passed far too many commercial and residential buildings that she didn’t recognise, she felt the beginnings of a headache forming.

The tinkling of an old bell above her head brought momentary relief to her bewildered state of mind, but as she moved further into the shop and began to admire her surroundings, too many eyes centred on her and she froze.

From behind the counter, a lanky figure pushed politely through the curious shoppers and approached. “Myka,” he greeted her with a slight squeeze to her arm. “I didn’t expect to see you in the shop today.” He exerted the tiniest amount of pressure and, without seeming to do so, led her towards the ‘staff only’ area. “Haley, will you please take the counter?” he asked a young woman as they left the shop and began to ascend towards the upstairs apartment.

At the top of the stairs, Myka regained her faculties and rounded on the young man. “Who are you?” she demanded as she became aware of the discomfort of having a stranger wandering casually around her childhood home.

“Jason,” he replied softly. “You employ me to organise and manage the shop when neither you nor HG is working. I was also, briefly, an agent with you at Warehouse 13.”

Myka’s frown deepened and she released a sigh of frustration. _Just go away!_ “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know you and I just want to be left alone, alright?” She felt immediately guilty for snapping at this stranger but as he smiled, nodded and returned below, she breathed with relief and turned cautiously to her old room.

After the last forty-eight hours of surprises, she was beginning to expect the changes that waited behind every closed door. She turned the handle to her old bedroom and held her breath. The sight of her late grandmother’s hand-stitched quilt and most of her old furniture released a weight from her shoulders and she closed the door behind her, blocking out the rest of the world for the time being. Her bag fell to the floor at the foot of the bed and she flopped down onto its welcome surface with a grunt of satisfaction. She knew immediately that the mattress was new, but as it enveloped her body like it was tailor made for her, she couldn’t help but smile.

The expression was short lived as her raging thoughts brought her back down to Earth. Before long, her restlessness dragged her from the cosy bed and she began to wander around the room. Her hands picked up knickknacks and played with the corners of photo frames, while her eyes drank the information therein. More images of Helena and their family assaulted her vision. Perhaps it was the ever-present smell of books or the comforting familiarity of her childhood room, but for some reason she found it easy in that moment to reach out and pull the pictures closer.

She began with the ones of the children, studying their features to find the inventor and herself. Their joyous expressions placed a tender smile back on her own face and for the first time since she’d woken to this future, she considered the possibility of it all being real. Perhaps it wasn’t so farfetched, her and Helena falling in love and not just in lust. She _had_ been feeling more permanent stirrings before the events in Egypt, and despite her anger, she knew that those feelings still lingered deep down, ready to resurface when the time was right. She was definitely gullible enough to let herself trust again and forgiving enough to give HG a second chance. Could that have really happened? It was certainly possible.

But was it likely? Three children of their creation, one of whom she had left with Helena in Victorian England? An ancient villain with a grudge against the Warehouse and a prophesy close to being fulfilled? Every one of her hopes for recognition from her parents and sister come to life? The woman of her dreams sworn to stand by her side? It all seemed so fantastical. How could she trust any of it?

Reluctantly returning the pictures of the children to their positions, Myka plucked a photo of her and Helena from the top of the chest of drawers and sank back onto the bed. She glanced at her own laughing face briefly but lingered on the Brit’s. Helena’s eyes were locked on photo-Myka’s happy features with a depth of reverence that couldn’t possibly be real. _Surely no one is ever that much in love_ , the brunette thought dismissively. _In a movie maybe._  But through her scepticism, a flicker of excitement tingled. If HG loved her _that_ much, maybe they _had_ found the strength to work past Helena’s darkness; there was a light in those mahogany depths that glowed through the inventor’s smile. Myka’s fingers traced the curve of a cheek and jaw, and then ghosted over glossed lips. Lips that had kissed her with furious passion, whispered the sweetest nothings… And uttered the most elaborate lies!

The thought came without warning and Myka shoved the frame non-too-carefully back on top of the drawers, face down. Her hand shook as she pulled it back and tears sprang to her eyes.

Needing a distraction, she left the room to explore the rest of the apartment, spent some time studying pictures of her sister’s family and ended up in the kitchen where she remained for the rest of the afternoon, stubbornly refusing to see or talk to anyone, though her hand hovered several times over the pocket of her jeans where her phone waited.

Hours passed before she heard footsteps on the stairs. With her elbows on the table and head held in the palms of her hands, she listened. Her heart hammered in her chest for a few seconds until she realised that the gait was too heavy to be any of the women she knew. _It’s not Helena,_ her instincts told her, and she experienced another jolt of disappointed relief. By the time the visitor reached the landing, she knew who had come to see her and before he even found the kitchen, she felt her body react, feet finding the floor as she launched from the chair.

Tears streamed down her face as she fell into Pete’s strong arms and wrapped hers around his torso. She listened to the comforting cadence of his voice and breathed him in.

“I’m here, Mykes. I’ve got you,” he told her repeatedly.

She remembered the very first mission they’d taken together after being thrown into the Warehouse and the instant, if surprising, trust she’d had in his ability to have her back. Not taking into account how much he’d irritated her. “Stay,” she pleaded into a damp shirt. “Don’t leave me.”

Pete’s mind took him back to the day that the regents had taken HG away in handcuffs and the sound of Mrs Fredrick’s voice as she read his partner’s farewell letter. He should have hugged her like this back then, before she had a chance to hide and bury her hurt. He wasn’t going to leave Myka to wallow in her own thoughts this time. He made his voice firm and reassuring as he squeezed his friend tighter, “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * * * *

Helena was hovering by the window of her son’s hospital room, staring blankly out at the patient courtyard, when a change in the teen’s breathing alerted her and she turned to watch his eyes fluttering open. In a blink, the fraught mother appeared next to the hospital bed and began fussing over the prone figure.

“Fredrick?” she asked gently. “Love, can you hear me?” Her hands hovered as her eyes flicked between the monitors and her son’s face.

Freddy groaned as he properly regained consciousness and squinted at the shadow above him. His stomach twisted with anxiety at the memory of being prey to a hunter, but his mother’s voice soothed him enough that he managed to fight the feeling. “Mum?” he groaned aloud, needing to confirm what he thought he’d heard.

“Yes, darling, I’m here,” HG answered and captured a drunkenly flailing arm between her two hands. For the first few minutes, she simply held his hand and waited for him to regain awareness of his surroundings. She had no idea what he remembered from his ordeal or how much distress he was in, so didn’t want to push him too quickly. When he eventually stopped twitching though and opened his eyes to focus on her, she allowed a teary smile to light up her face and offered a small ‘hello there’. “How are you feeling?”

Such a simple question should have prompted a simple answer, the boy thought, but his body felt like it no longer belonged to him. The dryness in his mouth and throat were at least one thing that he knew how to cure. “Thirsty,” he responded with a voice like gravel.

“Easily fixed,” Helena said in an overly bright manner.

The relief at seeing him awake made her want to cry with joy, but the fact that she could no longer delay telling him and Catherine about Myka’s absence filled her with dread. How were either of them going to cope with losing the mother they’d known all their lives and finding out that they were strangers to her? Was it not enough that her son had almost died by the hands of a mad man? Didn’t her youngest have enough to deal with in trying to find a place for herself within a social hierarchy that was designed to keep her out?

_Such is life,_ she decried and helped the teen to sit up enough that he could drink from his straw. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he sighed as he slumped limply back into his pillow. “How did I get here?”

Helena pulled her chair closer and leant forward so that she could continue to fuss over her little boy. It had been difficult hearing the story from Christina and it wasn’t going to be any easier retelling it. “You had everyone out looking for you,” she reassured him. “Even Grandpa Artie dragged himself out of his chair to join the search.” She watched him smile and ran her fingers through his hair. “They eventually found you in the woods and Christina was able to pin-point your location. You were very lucky and very brave, my prince.”

Freddy nodded stiffly. “What about Hugh?” he wondered anxiously. There had been two gun-shots and a woman’s face. Was the man still out there, looking to finish his hunt? _You’re dead, kid._ The words still echoed through his thoughts.

“Hugh?” HG asked as grain of anticipation rose from within. “Who is that, darling?”

“Him, the hunter,” the teen confirmed his mother’s suspicion. “I saw it in one of his bags.” He recalled the cabin with its dirt floor and abandoned smell. A rucksack with protein bars in the bottom and a name written in scruffy print on the label inside. He hadn’t thought it significant at the time, but it reminded him of a child’s backpack. “Hugh Parker.”

“Uncle Pete is leading the investigation, with your sister and Thomas helping. I will let them know that we might have a name for him. You need not worry though, love; he’s dead.”

“How d’you know?” he asked, his words slurred slightly from the effects of the painkillers he was on.

“Thomas used the glasses that I made to track your journey through the woods.” At her son’s somewhat blank expression, she elaborated, “There are times when we arrive too late to use the durational spectrometer. The glasses are based on the same design but use a similar principal to my time machine; they allow a person to witness events of the past but not directly interfere.” Deciding that the how was not so necessary at present, she returned to the story. “They highlight different people with distinctive colours. They were able to extrapolate your path and distinguish it from your pursuer. As your confrontation came to a head, another group of people entered the vicinity and, I believe, you were shot at the same time as Mr Parker. As his signal faded rather rapidly to nothing, it is apparent that his wound was fatal.”

Freddy nodded mutedly and studied a spot on the far wall, his eyes unblinking in an effort to hold in his feelings. “Right… That should make me feel safe, shouldn’t it,” he observed. It was evident from his tone that he felt nothing of the sort.

“Oh, love,” Helena lamented as she grasped a hand tighter with her own. “It is perfectly normal to still be afraid. No one expects you to jump back up and pretend that all is as normal.”

“I want to be brave,” he declared sharply, his tone somewhere between angry and determined.

“You _are_ brave,” HG insisted. “You attempted to save a classmate, escaped from danger and fought off your attacker. You are facing months of physical and mental therapy. Bravery is not achieved in the absence of fear but in its presence.”

At the word ‘classmate’, Fredrick recalled another concern, “Holly! What happened to her? Is she ok?” He panicked. _He_ ’d had training all of his life for this kind of situation. What could the average person do in the face of a man like Hugh Parker?

“Shh,” Helena soothed in an attempt to get the teen to stop dislodging the tubes and wires that were attached to him. “She is well, do not fret.” She watched as his expression relaxed and his body sank lethargically into the bed. Their conversation was taking its toll on him and she hadn’t even begun to tell him about Myka. “I really should call the nurse to let him know that you’re awake,” she told him and rose reluctantly from her chair. “Will you be alright by yourself for a minute?”

The teen nodded but there was a definite hint of fear behind his eyes as he did. As if summoned by the shared hesitance, a hand hit the door and pushed it wide open, allowing two new figures into the room. A smile crept up onto Freddy’s features as he recognised his sisters, replacing any lingering worry and he turned to his mother with his answer. “I’ll be fine,” he grinned.

HG squeezed his hand again before stepping away from the bed and opening her arms to allow her youngest into a hug. She reached a hand out for the bedframe to brace against the impact. “Oomph, goodness Catherine!” She had only been gone a week, but she was sure that her daughter had grown in that short time. “Your exuberance continues to know no bounds I see.” She wound her arms around the girl and dropped a kiss against her temple. “Mmm, I missed you.”

“I missed you, times infinity.” Cat’s reply was muffled by her mother’s tight hold but instead of pulling away, she just burrowed further into the inventor’s arms.

Helena eventually released the pre-teen and leant back far enough to look down into warm hazel. Out of the three, Catherine’s eyes were closest in colour to Myka’s and they served as a reminder that her wife was still very much an integral part of their family. “Could you look after your brother while Christina and I talk to the nurse?” she asked with a furtive glance at her eldest.

Fredrick narrowed his eyes slightly as his mother and twin left the room, but neither stopped to explain their secretive behaviour. He turned to his younger sister, fully expecting her to be oblivious to the subtle communication between the Victorians, but he found his own expression mirrored in hers. “You don’t know what they’re up to either?”

“No,” Cat replied shortly. “Chrissy didn’t sleep much last night. I think she had a nightmare.” Her frown darkened for a moment and she sighed in irritation. “Nobody ever tells me anything. They think I’m a baby.”

“They don’t,” Fredrick responded automatically. He watched a sardonic look pass over his sister’s face and knew that she didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her; he’d thought the same thing only a few days ago. “It changes things… when you know about the horrible stuff that happens to people. Once you know, you can’t go back. They just want us to enjoy being kids a bit longer.”

“I’d rather know what’s happening,” Catherine insisted stubbornly. “I hate it when I don’t understand what’s going on – it makes my insides squirmy.”

Freddy could sympathise on both sides. He was stuck between being a child and being an adult. It sucked to be left out, but after his recent ordeal, he understood why his parents and older sister had tried to shield him from the horrors of the world. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to close his eyes again without seeing The Hunter’s cruel gaze staring back at him. “It’s easy to say when you haven’t been through it, Cat,” he said with kindness.

“I’m part of this family too,” the girl replied. “You’re _my_ brother and you almost died. Chrissy should’ve told me!”

“And what would you have done? ‘Cause getting all hot-headed doesn’t help anyone,” he told her in no uncertain terms. They both knew that he was referring to her quick temper.

Catherine had the presence of mind to appear sheepish. Yes, she might have flown off at the handle, but they would never know unless they gave her a chance. Plus, there was another matter on her mind, “I took the Farnsworth, Freddy. I wanted to talk to Mum and Mama so badly.” She dropped her head and watched her hands fiddle with the buckle of her belt. “It’s my fault that they didn’t know about you sooner, and my fault that Chrissy didn’t have it when she needed it.” She looked up to find her brother’s patented ‘disapproving’ face and realised that the lightness she felt at confessing could be easily suffocated by yet more guilt. _Honesty sucks!_

* * * * *

At his friend’s instruction, Pete removed all the photos from Myka’s old room and hid them away. He then took it upon himself to do a bit of innocent snooping to check for anything else that might unhinge the brunette. He half hoped to find something incriminating that he could use to tease her about at a later date, when their lives eventually returned to their own brand of normal, but he came up empty handed. Since the shop’s upper apartment was sometimes used by other family members when they stayed overnight, he supposed it wasn’t so shocking that Myka was careful not to leave anything private lying around.

“Shame,” he mumbled under his breath. “It’s been too long since I managed to embarrass her.”

Ever since the conversation he’d had with Claudia, while waiting at the hospital for news about Freddy, he’d been worrying about his best friend. He had hoped that she would seek him out, but when more than a day passed as she had yet to appear, he knew that it would be up to him. The old Myka (the one he’d known seventeen years ago), had been fiercely independent and proud. Her first instinct after stopping HG’s rampage of destruction had been to remove herself from the scene and run home to her parents’ shop, so he hadn’t needed Jason’s concerned call to know where to find her. She wanted time to process and he’d already called for the backup she needed.

Ticking off his best friend duties, he called for take-out, poured a glass of wine for Myka and made sure there was plenty of soda in the fridge before coercing the regent into an arm chair in the living room.

She grumbled at being pulled from her impulsive cleaning session and accepted the wine with reluctance. “Pete, I don’t think alcohol is the best choice right now,” she told him before taking a tentative sip. _Mmm, that is nice though. Did I pick this out?_ she thought to herself.

“Alcohol is never the answer,” he agreed as he pulled the ring on his root beer. “But you usually want a glass when we have one of these deep convos, so I figured, why not? I won’t let you drink too much.”

“Ok.” She nodded and took another sip before resting it in her lap. Her eyes drifted around the room, not landing on anything in particular while her brain organised her thoughts into order of priority. “What happened in Egypt?”

Pete winced, though he’d known that this was coming. “Well, I beat you – two clues to three,” he gloated and performed a chair-wiggle-dance as she rolled her eyes.

After her exasperated smile faded, she fixed him with a hard stare. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah… HG had her own pimped-tesla and she shot us.” He watched a myriad of emotion cross his friend’s features but at her ‘get on with it’ wave, he soldiered bravely onward. “We used Dedalus’ wings to escape the desert that was trying to drown us, and Artie helped by opening the escape hatch…”

“How was Artie there?” Myka interrupted.

“He figured out that something was wrong when the Farnsworth went on the fritz, and Claude was being whizzy with the tech, finding HG’s dirty-money trail…” He paused to see if she wanted to add anything but at the pained expression on her face, he filled in the rest of the blanks like ripping off a band-aid.

It pained him too, to see her going through this experience again. Not that she remembered it actually happening. But this time he didn’t just suspect that she was heartbroken, he knew that the star-crossed lovers were destined to be together and that depth of feeling could only make his friend’s pain more agonising. Still, he didn’t pull any punches or try to paint the Brit as a victim while he narrated her crimes. There were tears in his companion’s eyes, the like that he’d seen when the regents had taken HG away for real, and he had to force himself to keep going to the point that he had chased after her when she’d left the Warehouse.

Myka choked back her tears and tried to draw breath. Helena had wanted to end the world. How could she have missed that? How could she have been blind to that level of grief and anger? Artie had seen it. Or at least, he’d seen enough not to trust that the Victorian was stable. Why hadn’t she listened to him? Had Pete known?

“Did you see it?” she asked abruptly. “Did you know that she could fall so far?”

Pete hesitated and then nodded. “I trusted you, Mykes. I wasn’t sure about her, but if anyone could reach her, it was going to be you.”

“I failed,” she hissed, her anger now directed inward.

Pete sighed. “You didn’t.”

 “She betrayed us all and I let it happen!”

“ _You_ talked her down,” he insisted calmly but firmly.

Not yet ready to forgive herself, Myka’s voice rose as she almost shouted, “After practically giving her access to the Warehouse on a silver platter!”

Holding up his hands as a sign of surrender, the Warehouse veteran decided to change tactics. “HG was wrong to do what she did,” he began and immediately knew that he was back on track when his companion slumped back into her chair. “She had her reasons, but she was wrong. For the longest time, I couldn’t forgive her and most of that was because she hurt my best friend to the point that you abandoned me.”

Myka swallowed hard, feeling the hurt in her friend’s voice as if that abandonment was taking place there and then. “I…”

But he was getting into his stride now and wasn’t prepared to let her take over. “We all do stupid things when we’re heartbroken. And I kinda think that smarter people are stupider with their stupid things. You were stupid to think that you were to blame, and HG was beyond stupid to think that starting another ice-age was going to make up for CJ’s death.”

The brunette stared at her companion, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Of the multitude of questions rattling around her brain, only one seemed to want to surface, “CJ?”

“Christina,” he clarified before deciding to keep going. “I know that you’re trapped in that place where the person you love most has just torn your heart out. And yeah, maybe it seems like nothing can be real if it’s not making you feel like crap, but nothing went from a pile of poop to rainbows and sparkles overnight. It took effort for all of us, but she, HG… She worked harder than any of us to get to where she is now.”

Myka’s face contorted and tried on several emotions before it settled on stubborn refusal. “So, I should just forgive and forget?”

“Nah, that’s not what I’m saying,” Pete argued, his tone full of frustration. “Just, while you’re having your space and thinking things through, remember that we’ve all come a long way. We may not be bosom buddies or anything, but HG is family now and I don’t want you to hurt her any more than I want her to hurt you.” He shrugged at her look of surprise and moved swiftly onto his next point, “More importantly: HG will wait an eternity for you if she has to, so take your time if you need it, but don’t shut the kids out, Myka. They don’t deserve to suffer because some ass-hat stole half your life from you.”

“If any of this is even real,” she responded and threw her hands in the air.

“Ok yeah, I get that. If it is all baloney and you get invested, it’s gonna hurt you all over again. But Mykes, if it’s real and you shut everybody out, your kids are gonna be the ones hurtin’ the most, and that’s gonna damn near kill you.” He watched as understanding and realisation settled on her face. Tears gathered in her eyes again. “Is it time to switch to water,” he nodded towards her glass, “or do you want something stronger?”

It was a test, of sorts. What was her state of mind? Could she open it to believe that the impossible might be possible, or was she going to remain numb to love and close down the part of her that wanted to take a chance? She shut her eyes and looked at the anger that swam closest to her thoughts. It wasn’t all for Helena. After Pete’s story, she realised how much she hated herself for being weak, for letting the inventor get under her skin and for not taking more opportunities to probe deeper into her lover’s psyche. It was all too raw right now and she couldn’t envisage a time that she would be able to let go of her ire, but maybe… someday… In the meantime, she conjured the images of the children whose photos she’d studied. There was a pull there. Whether from a longing to believe or a spiritual connection. Pete was right though, she couldn’t ignore the innocents.

“I’ll have water,” she answered after a heavy pause and watched a smile creep along her friend’s mouth.

“Atta girl,” he said and as he collected her empty glass, leant down to kiss her forehead. “You won’t regret it. I’m gonna grab another soda and then I’m gonna show you my little rug-rats.”

Myka cracked a smile of her own. “I can’t believe you actually let one woman tie you down.”

Pete’s eyebrows danced predictably at that statement. “Yeah, but what a woman!”

Green eyes rolled in their sockets and a hand reached out to smack the man’s slight paunch. “Go, get your soda. I want to see what happens when Pete Lattimer breeds.”

“You’re in for a treat!” he yelled behind him as he left the room.

Myka grinned and shook her head. Much as he drove her crazy, she couldn’t imagine not having Pete in her life. Not anymore. Maybe she could get through this after all.

* * * * *

Standing outside her son’s hospital room, Helena scanned the vicinity for the nurse and let him know that Freddy was awake. She then relayed to Christina the titbits of information she’d learned about Hugh and sent her eldest off to re-join the investigation at the site of the shooting. Once alone, she took a deep breath and went in search of the doctor.

When she returned to her son’s room, it felt like no time had passed at all and suddenly she was forced into the moment that she’d been dreading since boarding the plane in Adelaide: telling her children that one of their mothers no longer knew them. As she quietly pushed the door open and stood for a moment on the threshold, she watched Catherine’s wildly gesticulating hands, Fredrick’s amused but tired smile and listened to the eleven-year-old’s animated anecdote about a classmate who’d opened a bottle of soda under his desk and hadn’t realised that his friend had shaken it up. She hated the fact that she had to burst their bubble and felt a new layer of resolve to hunt down Lloyd Spenser-Chapman.

She allowed the door to shut, rounded the bed and pulled a chair closer so that she could sit between brother and sister. “That story reminds me of your third birthday,” she jumped in as she turned a smile on her son. “You tried to carry the two litre bottles of carbonated pop from the kitchen to the table outside and didn’t know to tell anyone that you dropped each of them several times in the process. The result was rather amusing. It took Pete and Myka half an hour to mop it all up.”

“You didn’t help, Mum?” Catherine asked, her arms folded accusingly over her torso.

Helena’s eyes narrowed in mock offence. She swatted the pre-teen’s nose with the top of her finger and felt a body-wide tingle of pure affection at the resulting expression. “You were a babe-in-arms at that point and quite intent on your own lunch. I dread to think what might have happened had I tried to interrupt your feeding time.” She laughed as both children pulled a face. Taking a double look at Freddy’s drooping eyelids, she quickly sobered. “Look, my darlings, I need to be serious with both of you for a few moments.” She paused to check that she had their undivided attention before pushing on. “It’s about your mother.”

Fredrick’s eyes widened as Catherine stiffened in her seat. “What’s wrong with Ma?” the girl asked sharply.

“Physically, nothing is wrong with her,” the inventor assured her children calmly. “Jason called me this morning to tell me that Myka is there. I think perhaps she might choose to stay at the shop for a while.”

“Why? What happened?” Cat continued, her tone a little less panicked. Until her brother asked if they were getting a divorce, and then she looked horrified. “You’re getting divorced!?”

“No!” Helena said vehemently, her own heart picking up an unusual rhythm at the mere notion of being permanently separated from her soul mate. She hastened to explain, not wanting to give her children chance to jump to more conclusions. “Myka came into contact with an artefact while we were away. It affected her memory so she is going to need some time before she’s ready to come home.”

“How much of her memory? Does she think she’s a kid again or something?” the teen asked slowly, his brain working through several scenarios at once.

Helena coughed nervously. “Not quite that far, my darling. However…”

Freddy took one look at the hesitation in his mother’s eyes and cringed. “She doesn’t remember us, does she?”

“No, love,” the Victorian confirmed with regret. “She remembers working at the Warehouse with me, but not rescuing your sister from Limbo or anything after that.”

Catherine’s face froze, her eyes filling with tears briefly before her expression hardened. She slid off the bed, stomped across the room, pushed forcefully through the door and disappeared into the corridor beyond. HG rose from her seat to follow after her daughter but hesitated as she glanced toward her son.

Freddy smiled at her in sympathy. “It’s ok, Mum. I’m pretty tired anyway. We can talk about it when I’m awake again.”

Helena leant over him carefully to kiss his forehead. “Thank you, love. Try not to worry too much. Your Mama won’t be away forever.”

She left the room, knowing that her son would be unable to do anything but worry about his American mother, but knowing that she had no choice. Fredrick was immobile for now but Catherine could be anywhere if given enough time to wander.

Thankfully, the eleven-year-old had not managed to make it past the nurse’s station and was being held up by the young nurse called Javier, who’d been looking after Freddy. He shot the inventor a small smile before excusing himself to get back to his duties. At the abrupt departure, Catherine turned, her frown instantly giving way to a scowl.

Helena crouched down to sit on her haunches and looked up into eyes that were a mixture of confused, angry and crushed. “I know you’re upset, Catherine, but I need you not to run off like that. It terrifies me when I don’t know where you are.” She tucked a lock of hair behind an ear, keeping her tone soft. “Especially after what happened with your brother this week.”

Hazel eyes tempered gradually until the girl managed to appear somewhat contrite. “I’m sorry, Mum. I swear, I wasn’t going to go far. I wasn’t going to leave the ward.”

“You needed space,” HG nodded her understanding and lifted both hands to squeeze her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s ok. Your mother and I have been advising you for years now to take refuge when you feel overwhelmed. I’m proud of you, darling. I know how devastating this must be.”

“Mama really doesn’t remember me?” Catherine asked in a small voice.

Helena reluctantly shook her head. “We are searching for the artefact that took her memories in the hope that we can reverse the process, but for now, we simply have to give Myka time to come to terms with everything. Ok?”

The girl scrutinised her mother for a moment. “Mama’s careful with artefacts; she doesn’t touch them by accident. Did someone try to hurt her?”

Though part of Helena was proud of the pre-teen’s quick deductions, she was more concerned by the thunderous emotion in her daughter’s gaze. She sighed before nodding slowly. “I believe that it was a deliberate act, yes. But the important thing to remember is that Myka is not hurt and that we can help her.”

Cat shrugged and nodded as she took her mother’s arm and followed her back to her brother’s room. She wasn’t completely satisfied with the conversation but knew from the Brit’s expression that she wouldn’t get any answers about the villains who were hurting her family. She’d just have to keep her ear to the ground – someone would let something slip eventually.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essential plot building ahead...

** Chapter Three **

It was Sunday morning, Myka discovered as she scrambled for her phone in the half light and read the display. Two days since she’d returned to her home and found that her life was nothing like she remembered it. She hoped that Sunday still meant that the shop would be closed. Other than needing to not see people who would constantly remind her that she was out of her depth, she wanted to explore the place that housed so many of her better childhood memories. Was it anything like she’d imagined from the rare occasion that she’d considered one day taking over from her dad?

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and searched blindly with her feet until they found her slippers and she toed them on. A chill in the air made it cold enough to want a dressing gown but since she hadn’t considered packing one, she searched until she found an oversized pullover and wrestled it on. It wasn’t until she was stood in front of the bathroom mirror that she noticed the lettering on the front and tugged at it to read it from upside-down. _Oxford? Huh._ It probably had significant meaning but since she couldn’t remember buying it, she figured that there wasn’t much point dwelling on it. _It is comfy,_ she thought and then froze for a split second as an imagine of Helena in her Lara Croft outfit sprang to mind.

“Can’t we go just one day without thinking about that?” she asked her brain testily. “Just one would be nice.”

In the kitchen-diner, she fiddled with the percolator until it was chugging away, dripping liquid caffeine into the carafe, and waited until there was enough for a mug-full. Pete would be asleep for another hour or so, she assumed. Though who knew; as a father of two, perhaps he’d realised the benefits of a peaceful early morning. The Lattimer children, she had to admit, were lovely. She had been surprised, and then disturbed, by the story of his breakup with Kelly but Pete’s partner, Lila, was much like she’d expected, leggy and blonde, and apparently similar in stature to his ex-wife. _You were married!?_ she’d blurted after that statement, but where Amanda had been driven by career ambition, Lila was laid back and mostly enjoyed the chaos that was part of the Pete-parcel.

Since their two families were so close, there had been more than the odd image of Catherine, Fredrick and Christina mixed in with Sophie and Jake. The more time she spent looking at pictures of them, the easier it was to see herself with them – a mother of three. Even to the point that she almost ached to see them walk through the door so she could wrap her arms around them. It was easier to accept the pull she felt when she thought about the children. That was just instinct, wasn’t it? A maternal, magnetic force that many creatures felt towards their young. She wondered whether it was supposed to feel so strong – like she could close her eyes if she wanted to and actually see them at will? But that was a ridiculous thought and she shoved it vehemently to the recesses of her mind. She was ready to accept that she had children, but not so ready to study their unusual origins or consider the fact that they linked her so solidly to her ex-lover.

After Pete’s recount of the events leading up to HG’s capture, Myka had refused to hear any more of the Brit’s involvement in their lives. She needed a break. If she was capable of inviting the woman back into her life then it would be in her own time, on her own terms. The little tug in her gut would have to simmer down until she could process the inventor’s actions properly. In the meantime, she decided that the photo albums around the apartment could provide her with some of the history that was missing. At a push, she might even venture down to the shop and snoop around while her employees were not around to watch her with overly pitying looks.

* * * * *

**Dodge City**

For years now, under Claudia’s guidance, Meghan had been targeting and infiltrating extremist groups, looking for evidence that they were linked to Lloyd Spenser-Chapman’s faction. She’d worked her way into _this_ ‘church’ through an old friend of a distant cousin; someone who had a vague knowledge of her familial connections but wasn’t aware of her recent activities, or the fact that her uncle had displeased their great and powerful leader. Once in the door, she’d made herself almost invisible, acting the meek, downtrodden mouse that most of the women in her family were trained to be. Two months gave her enough insight into her fellow parishioners to realise that their faith was more cultist than most. Lloyd Spenser-Chapman was their representative of God on Earth, their Christ, the second coming. They spoke about him and their elitist mission as their exclusive right to a paradise of his design. As she glanced around at the blissfully ignorant faces of those around her, she had to wonder what her life would be like had she not managed to persuade the caretaker that this was her calling…

_Eleven years ago, freshly freed from medical restrictions and cleared by the doctor to return to the field, Meghan sat with the new Warehouse caretaker to discuss her involvement with the preparations to repel Heracles from the Warehouse. Though she had begun to develop a tentative relationship with her cousin Steve, in the time since her dismissal from official service to the Warehouse, the young ex-agent resisted any direction to return to working closely with the team. She’d chaffed under Artie’s command and around her fellow agents, and though she wouldn’t choose to be tortured again, she’d enjoyed working undercover and to her own timetable._

_Facing the redhead, she argued to return to that post. “I’m not all like, into team work and that shit. I know I screwed up last time, but you need someone who can give you inside info. You’ve got your golden team and that’s great and everything, but they don’t know their asses from their elbows when it comes to the enemy’s inner workings, and neither do you.”_

_“Harsh,” Claudia commented with a small smile. “I know you’re right, but Meg, you were tortured not so long ago. Tortured!” she iterated when there was no change in the other woman’s expression. “I don’t know if I can send you out again with the risk of that hanging over you.”_

_“So, what? You want me to sit in the sun and twiddle my thumbs?” Meghan argued. “It’s not like I can just go back to a normal life. I’m useless sitting around here. I’m not a tech whizz, I’m not built for combat, not a genius who solves impossible puzzles, or a human lie detector. I feel artefacts and I’m pretty good at being invisible. My uncle is dead and as far as I know, only one other person knows of my connection to you guys. I can sneak into those extremist groups that’ve got you worried and check ‘em out.”_

_Having said her piece, the ex-agent slumped back in her chair and waited for the caretaker to give her an answer. Somehow, she knew that the next words out of Claudia’s mouth were going to seal her fate, and not necessarily in a good way. Strangely enough, she was ok with that. She’d never been very good at waiting around for things to happen, despite outward appearances. The redhead would force her life to take direction no matter which way that was. One thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t remain on this island._

_Claudia sighed heavily. She hated these kinds of decisions. At least inside Warehouse 14 she could leave most of the delegation to Artie’s replacement, but on the island, she was in charge and it fell to her to make the tough decisions. “Fine,” she eventually gave in. “I’ll set you up with some supplies and we’ll make a plan for where you can start.” Noticing the satisfied excitement in usually morose eyes, she felt a mix of relief and apprehension. “You have to check in regularly with Jinksy though, and we need a contingency plan for if you think you’re under threat,” she insisted._

_Meghan nodded and felt a foreign sensation of warmth pass through her. Was this what it felt like to have someone care about her wellbeing? She’d never really thought about it before. “It’s not your fault, you know, if I get hurt. I’m a big girl; I know the risks. I’ll be as careful as I can, but you can’t control everything.”_

_That was the last time they approached the subject of her throwing herself into known danger, but she had clearly seen the worry in the redhead’s eyes._

Her time with the Warehouse had changed her view of the world. She’d forgotten the uncomfortable drilling feeling that accompanied indoctrination. Those early years in the ‘real world’ had spared her infant brain from the worst of it and she couldn’t help but feel both disappointment and gratitude. Having watched the cultists for weeks, she understood the appeal of unquestioning devotion to an idea. There was a comfortable feeling of security in the absence of doubt. A belief that any hardship or sin was temporary, excusable and all part of a higher purpose. Belief like that absolves the believer and wraps them in a bubble of unaccountability. It was an attractive prospect.

But Meghan knew the consequences of blind faith. People who were willing to commit mass genocide because of their belief in their cause. She’d seen enough suffering – from the innocents caught in the cross-fire to those targeted by prejudice and bigotry.

Her thoughts turned to Helena Wells-Bering and she felt a familiar annoyance tug at her thoughts. Admittedly, the Brit had grown on her over the years. She was a lot less arrogant than the HG of the past and her willingness to admit her faults, to make an effort to change, it all went a long way towards making her likable in agent Coombs’ mind. Still, whether the inventor could help it or not, she was intricately connected to their power-hungry adversary and, for whatever reason, it irritated Meghan.

After the disaster with her last undercover mission, she’d been so sure that she could do better and provide the team with vital information. Her Uncle Congrave was dead and she’d seen neither hide nor hair of Chapman, the man depicted in her vision.

After only two short weeks of attending the church, there was a special sermon, by the end of which, a ceremony was performed for the _ascension_ of Jacob Murdoch. Like a baptism, the pastor immersed Mr. Murdoch in a bath of consecrated water before presenting him with robes of emerald-green and explaining that he would be leaving to serve the ‘Great One’ in some new capacity.

_Creeptastic_ had been the word at the forefront of Meghan’s mind as she witnessed this event, not least because so many of the people surrounding her were crying with joy or muttering about the possibility of them being next.

She wasn’t sure what exactly had tipped her off that she was in trouble. It was a passing look her way, or perhaps a slight gesture between assessors, but when the topic of _her_ ascension dropped into conversation between her and the pastor, her sixth sense screamed a warning. She tried to pass her momentary disquiet off as simple shock and disbelief, timidly asking if he was sure. “They want me?” she’d stammered. But he must have gleaned something from her eyes; a meaningful look travelled across the room and within seconds a man towered on either side of her before ushering her through a side door. Meghan made no effort to resist as she ignored the envious glances shooting her way. She found herself being led past an ominous, life-sized statue of Christ on his cross and into a narrow corridor. How had she gotten herself into this mess again?

A heavy door opened onto a blind alley, midday sun casting a spotlight on the plain van suddenly facing her. _Fuck, I’m screwed,_ she thought, knowing that if she got in, she would be dead before the van reached its destination. A dense cloud passed overhead just as the passenger door opened to eject its occupant. Meghan froze. She knew that scar and those beautiful, deadly eyes…

_As a teen, she once sneaked into her uncle’s study, hoping to find the whiskey she knew he kept in there. It was a decent sized room with a whole wall consisting of cupboards with ornate, wooden doors. Knowing that her prize was probably under the desk, close to hand for anyone who might sit there for hours on end, she made a beeline for the room’s most prominent feature._

_She’d barely taken three steps from the door when she heard voices approaching. Panicking, she leapt as quietly as she could towards a cupboard, snatched the door open and climbed inside. There wasn’t enough room to pull the door completely closed, but she found a niche for her fingers on the inside and held on for dear life._

_She caught only glimpses of her uncle’s grim, sweating face next to a woman who wore a sinister sneer, before the pair were gone again and she slipped from the cupboard with a relieved grunt._

Seeing that severe face again now, as she was being led to her death, just made her fate seem so much more inevitable.

Long legs brought the imposing woman right inside her comfort zone. It took all of her effort to look up and meet the commander’s gaze and when she did, talon-tipped fingers grasped her jaw and forced her head towards the sky. Despite the cloud cover, the light shining though washed out her vision for a moment and she blinked rapidly.

“The redhead thinks she’s being clever by sending you into our midst. Little lamb for the slaughter.” Bruttius sighed, her eyes projecting the indifference she felt toward her captive’s plight. “I hope you have enjoyed your time with us.” She studied Meghan’s features as if she were a particularly fascinating insect, turning the agent’s face to different angles. “You are fortunate, young one. Our Great leader wishes for your end to be swift.” She leant closer, casting her face further into shadow. The intensity was too much and Meghan was compelled to look away. “Given the option, I could have made your last hours very... interesting. There are many other fish in your pond though,” she added and leant back a little, her expression bored once more. “Remember us to your uncle, won’t you.”

A shiver ran the length of the agent’s spine. Adrenaline swam through her system now and her eyes searched frantically for an escape plan. There seemed to be little reason for hope; the van blocked much of the narrow space, there were heavy-set thugs half way along the alley to where it led out onto the street, and there were still the two guards stood either side of her. But then she glanced over a thin shadow on the left-hand wall, just beyond the vehicle’s front bumper. Was that a narrow space between the buildings? She didn’t have a figure like Bering or Wells (she was naturally stocky) but she was small compared to those around her. It might make all the difference.

As if triggered by this hint of hope, the light around them abruptly changed. Bruttius had released Meghan’s face and taken several steps back towards the passenger door, while the man on the agent’s right had moved to open the back of the van. Like flicking a switch in a dark room, sunlight poured into the narrow space between a gap in the clouds. Every reflective surface magnified the effect, causing a temporary white-out of everyone’s vision. Everyone’s except Meghan’s.

Being forced to stare at the sky had been a blessing in disguise. Her pupils had already reacted, contracting to protect her retinas. Not wasting time to celebrate, she darted from within arms’ reach of her blinded captors and sprinted with every ounce of effort that she could muster. The delay didn’t last long and before she was even half way there, shouts erupted and echoed in the small space. She didn’t bother to brace herself for the impact but pushed her body hard into the tight crevice. For a horrible second, she thought that she wasn’t going to fit – her hips scraped against brick and her belt dug painfully into her skin. Trying not to panic, she kept pushing and wriggled to move past the obstruction. Relief hit her when the gap between the walls widened and she fell into the darkness.

She couldn’t entirely recall the rest of her escape that day. The gap had lead into a tiny courtyard, from which she had found her way into a building and – after waiting a few hours – out onto the street. Realising that Chapman’s people might have been watching her for some time, she avoided returning to her base and made her way carefully to the bus station. The day she’d arrived in the town, she’d stashed her Farnsworth and a bag of emergency supplies in a locker, ready for a day such as this. With ticket in hand and the miles rolling away beneath her seat, she let the adrenaline drain from her body and fell into a fitful sleep.

She’d used her Farnsworth once, to have a very brief conversation with Steve about helping her to safety, but within a couple of short hours of that call, she’d narrowly avoided capture again and now she was reluctant to use the device. She knew that the Farnsworth couldn’t be hacked or traced but the coincidence struck her as odd and reminded her of the scene from the Deathly Hallows where Ron explained that the Death Eaters could track anyone who used Voldemort’s name. Something just didn’t feel right, so she decided to head to Denver to see the majority of the team in person. Now she was halfway across Kansas, trapped in Dodge City in an old factory.

Meghan Coombs sweated profusely; it was hot in her foxhole - unbearably so. In an effort to find her and force her out of hiding, someone had turned up the heating in the building. As the temperature continued to rise, she knew that she had a difficult decision to make. She might be well hidden, but she very much disliked the idea of being cooked alive. Somehow, her pursuers had tracked her down again and she knew that she would not escape if they caught her, not after the first time, which had been nothing short of a miracle. Now, they were trying to ‘smoke’ her out and she was fighting the need to seek a more hospitable hiding place. No doubt there would be someone on guard out there, waiting for her to crack.

Desperation forced her to resort to the Farnsworth again and now she was anxiously hoping that Jason had managed to pass her message along to Steve. Even if he had though, she soon decided that help was too far away to get her out of the frying pan and began to rethink her exit.

* * * * *

As it was his day off, Jason stood next to the washing machine, folding his and Steve’s clothes into separate baskets ready to be put away. When he wasn’t managing Bering and Wells Books and ensuring that his friends’ livelihood ran smoothly, he enjoyed this sort of simple domesticity. Once upon a time, he’d envisioned himself being pressured into marriage with a woman of his parents’ choosing, or else living a life of permanent bachelordom. Though he and his husband had their ups and downs, overall, they were very happy. He was grateful for his blessings.

Steve had popped out on a whim to pick up a few groceries and some wine for dinner. What with all the drama surrounding their friends at present, they’d been rather lax on the shopping front, and the fridge was looking woefully bare. Though they had both suggested picking up the phone and calling for a pizza, it was decided that neither wanted to fall into the fast-food trap. Liam might have complained about the ex-ATF agent’s cooking, but between them, Jason and Steve had learned a few reasonable culinary skills.

Basket of his own clothes in hand and potential meals on his mind, Mr J. Jinks made his way to the bedroom and worked efficiently to put the clean laundry in its proper place. Once done, he wandered back through the kitchen for the second load. He barely took notice of the Farnsworth on the table or the clock on the wall as he passed, but suddenly found himself staring, frowning between the two, his basket abandoned on the floor…

_With Steve’s Farnsworth held in front of him, Jason listened attentively to the woman on the other end of the call and logged everything that he intended to report to his superior. His cousin by marriage called sporadically to talk to his husband, and he gleaned enough to keep the Commander content with his reports, but never before had he had an opportunity to speak to Meghan without Steve around._

_“You’ll tell Steve, right?” the woman checked for the third time. “I’m on the four-hundred. I made it past Greensberg, but I’m not sure if I’m gonna make it outta Dodge. Literally! I need backup.”_

_“Don’t worry, Coombs. We were partners, right?” he asked as he attempted to reassure her. “I know we didn’t always manage to get along, but I have your back.” He watched her eyes dart rapidly around and knew that his time was running out. “Where exactly are you?”_

_“I don’t know… Some truck place off the main highway,” Meghan responded in something of an annoyed panic._

_He listened and responded in all the right places as she explained how she’d found her way into an abandoned factory and hidden in an obscure little room beside the boiler. His concern sounded sincere when she told him of her predicament with the heat._

_When he hung up, his left hand reached automatically for his phone while the right placed the Farnsworth precisely back where he’d found it. The speed-dial read ‘Sandra Olek’ and within three rings, a voice answered with a hard, ‘Speak.’ “I know where she is and where she will be next,” Jason told the Commander in an emotionless monotone._

_“That is good,” came the reply. “She is proving to be elusive. We will arrange to allow her to escape us once more. She will hesitate at a familiar face, I think. You will be able to get close to her where we have failed to do so.”_

_“I will,” Jason confirmed. “Do you want me to bring her in?”_

_“Not while her heart still beats,” replied the commander._

_Confirming his orders, the ex-agent hung up, deleted the notification from his call-history and slid the phone back into his pocket. For several seconds, he stood and stared across the kitchen, until something drew his attention and he blinked, as if waking from a dream._

The sound of the front door grabbed his attention and this time, he glanced between the clock and his watch. _Is that really the time?_

“Hey, babe,” Steve greeted as he wrestled three full bags through the door and closed it behind him. He grinned, deliberately flexed as he lifted the bags onto the counter and leant in for a kiss. “Still on laundry?” he asked offhandedly.

“Mmm,” Jason replied as if he couldn’t believe it had taken him so long. “I’ve just got to put yours away.”

“They folded?” Steve wondered as he began to remove food from bags and sort out which ones to put where.

“Yeah,” the younger of the two answered, this time with a little more presence of mind. “I’ll just go grab them,” he added and moved to pick up the basket.

Steve reached out, wrapped his fingers around an extended arm and drew his husband into his arms. “Don’t bother,” he said with a smile. “I’ll get to it later. Stay with me,” he suggested and leaned in to capture pursed lips.

Jason smiled into the kiss and felt his worries melting away. Something must have shown in his body language because he felt Steve pull back. Glancing across into warm blue, he waited for his husband to speak.

“J, is everything ok?” Steve wondered.

The younger man shook his head and laughed softly at himself. “I’m fine, I just… I guess I just lost track of time. I was thinking about Myka… It’s crazy how someone can go from being happy and in love one day, to losing years of their life.” He shrugged sadly. “I wish there was something we could do to help…” He gazed at Steve at length. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Blue eyes softened further and hands came up to cradle worried features. “You won’t lose me, babe,” Steve insisted. “I love you and you love me. We’ll fight for each other, just like Myka and HG will. Don’t give up on them, ok?”

Wiping away a stray tear or two, Jason nodded and laughed at himself again. “I do love you,” he confirmed and wrapped his arms tighter around his companion’s waist. “After dinner and a glass of wine, I might even show you how much,” he added suggestively and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s get this show on the road then!” Steve left another longing kiss before moving back to the groceries. He glanced at the Farnsworth on the table, his pleasant thoughts interrupted for a moment. He’d meant to take it with him but forgot it on his way out the door. “Hey, did Meghan call? She should have reached her next check point by now.”

Jason frowned, his thoughts on pause for a second before he relaxed. “No.” He watched disappointment and worry on his husband’s face. “Hey, I’m sure she’ll call in soon. She’s too tenacious to give up now.” He smiled and was gratified to find one in return. “Dinner?”

“Right!” Jinksy chuckled.

* * * * *

**Salisbury, England**

The journey from Paris had been free of trouble and Heracles had smiled to himself as he stepped from the airport with his precious cargo being carried behind him. Less than a week had passed since his strategic run-in with the Mrs’s Wells-Bering and he silently congratulated himself on a plan well-executed. Helena and her misguided followers were far too occupied at present to keep tabs on something as intransigent as a mausoleum, and the ease of his necessary grave-robbing pleased him.

With a wealth of knowledge, both of centuries past and present, he felt grateful for the scepticism that filled most people (or at least, people of ‘civilised’ influence). A stone altar, a pile of bones and a sacrificial knife might appear as more of a re-enactment to anyone passing by, but as the sky had only just begun to lighten with the coming dawn, the chance of that happening was slim.

Cassandra stood close by, ever his shadow and protector. None but his most trusted companion could be allowed the privilege of witnessing these sacred moments. There was too much to lose.

Centuries ago he’d discovered her: tied to a stake, baking in the heat of an Italian sun, beaten, bloodied and bruised. At first glance, he hadn’t thought much of her – a downtrodden slave was not an uncommon sight in 3rd century Rome – but a voice in the back of his head had made him take a second look. As he approached, defiant eyes glared back at him, daring him to try and hurt her. She was barely a woman, probably only a year or two into being able to bear children, but in spite of that and her injuries, a force of strength prevailed which Heracles found impressive. But like a wild animal, she would panic and lead herself further into danger if he released her too soon. Knowing that actions spoke louder than words, he left her a skein of wine and the dry fruit and bread he’d rationed for himself.

With his father and brother half a millennium dead, he’d become used to finding ways to be invisible and survive. After spending a couple of hundred years following hints of strange happenings and attempting to break into the Warehouse, he eventually realised that he needed to learn to be patient. Certain of his destiny, he set out to learn all he could about the changing world around him and to find others who could help him improve his lot. He’d failed, many times, often by choosing from familiar sources – wealthy, ambitious but undervalued younger sons. Finally realising that he couldn’t trust allies who held their own agenda, he resigned himself to a solitary existence, focussing on honing his knowledge and physical presence through his sons. Until Cassandra.

Speaking not a word to her, he continued in the vein of the good Samaritan for a fortnight. While fresh bruises appeared on her flesh daily, he relied on her master knowing that his slave was too valuable to kill. By the end of the second week, he decided that it was time to risk releasing her. His own food supply was keeping them both alive, but if she was to gain enough strength to help him in the long run, she would need time to heal first. Her master was in the habit of throwing her outside close to midnight. Somewhere between that hour and dawn, Heracles appeared by her side, gave her the sustenance she’d come to expect and broke her chains.

They stayed close to her former tormenter for almost a year, merely a stone’s throw from the brute who raged for days after discovering his toy missing. They watched as slave catchers arrived for a description and then took off on horseback to hunt the escapee. For the first few nights, Cassandra asked Heracles to explain his logic in staying and each time, he calmly iterated his belief that no one would think to search so close to her master. Slave runaways tried to flee as far and as fast as possible, so who would think to look across the street? She quickly came to trust his judgement and as a year passed and another slave took her place in the dirt, she stopped questioning.

When they finally moved on, they left behind the strangled corpse of her former master and another set of broken chains.

Unflinching, he drew the knife along his arm and held it over the bones of an eight-year-old, allowing his blood to drip along their length. This latest stage in his plan would bond him with his aunt’s descendants and the path of the caretaker. When the time was right, he would be able to walk through the walls of the Warehouse unchallenged and trigger the final confrontation with his father. How the Wells-Bering family fitted into that end, he did not yet know, but he was confident that all would be revealed to him in time.

* * * * *

It was midweek and they were sat at Steve’s cosy little table in his kitchen, drinking herbal tea. It was their regular, weekly get together and Claudia was more grateful than ever for her bestie’s calming presence, and since his husband had taken a road trip to purchase some obscure books for the shop, she had her poopy-pants all to herself. Too many burdens weighted her shoulders and as her friend warmed his hands on his mug, the redhead slumped against the table, her voice muffled against the wooden surface.

“I failed them,” Claudia groaned. “I’m the worst caretaker ever!” She huffed, waited a few seconds, and when there was no response, she chanced a glance at her friend’s face. His raised eyebrow said it all.

“Aren’t we being a tad overdramatic?” Steve ventured in his most no-nonsense tone. He wanted to roll his eyes but knew that his friend’s extreme behaviour was a sign that she was overwhelmed by everything that was going on with the Warehouse.

“Mrs F…”

“Couldn’t control everything, and neither can you sweetie.” He reached over the table to rest a hand atop one of hers. “HG knows that you’re doing everything you can to help. This attack came completely out of left field. Not even Pete felt it coming until it hit them.”

Claudia pouted and slumped back into her chair. Being the caretaker had seemed so much easier when she was watching Mrs Fredrick do it. The woman almost never cracked an expression, so she’d naturally assumed that a caretaker had the power to be cool and collected under any circumstance. Over the years, she’d discovered that was not the case. “Poor Petie. He hates being impotent,” she lamented. “I have to know who this guy was and why he attacked Freddy. I’m going crazy. All questions and no answers make Claudia a loony girl.”

“You’re doing everything you can,” Steve iterated.

“ _I_ told them about the crashed satellite. It’s _my_ fault that Myka and HG weren’t home.” She couldn’t leave it alone. For years, all of her extra-curricular pursuits had focussed on her surrogate nieces and nephews. Keeping them safe was her raison d’etre, from both her own perspective and that of the entity to which she was now bound. _Is that why I’m feelin’ all the cray-cray?_ her brain threw at her during a lull in the race of thoughts. “Maybe they should have had two teams.”

“Maybe,” her friend conceded. He took a sip of his tea, giving him a moment to think. He couldn’t stop her from obsessing over the what ifs entirely, but he could try to help. “Two teams _might_ have helped, but we can’t know that. They asked you to let them know if you discovered anything that would make the teleporter work, and _they_ made the decision to go.” Jinksy sighed. “When was the last time you slept?”

The caretaker stared at him and blinked once, and then a second time. “Slee-eep? What is this thing of which you speak?” A half-smile accompanied her attempt to cover her stress with humour.

Steve was unimpressed, “Claude!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the redhead grumbled and shrugged. “I sleep. I think. Time gets kinda weird when you’re poofing all over the world. I don’t actually know if I need sleep anymore or if it’s just a habit.” She scratched her chin and gazed off into a corner of the room, remembering far off places. “I don’t think I ever slept in the nut-house either, but that was mostly cuz of my silly fear of being probed and electrocuted.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve reached for the teapot and refilled their cups. “You’re going to burn out if you don’t slow down,” he warned. “How will you be able to help anyone if that happens, hmm?”

Claudia waved her hand around to dismiss the concern. “I’m like the Duracell bunny, or maybe something not related to rabbits and batteries… Though sleep isn’t the only need I’ve been neglecting,” she added in an undertone. Seeing the embarrassment on her friend’s face though, she coughed and changed the subject quickly. “Aaand moving swiftly onward… I will promise to recharge soon. When all this mess with Freddy’s attacker is sorted out.”

Another raised brow greeted this declaration. “Are you promising to recharge soon, or promising to promise soon?”

The caretaker chuckled sheepishly. “Damn your syntax-deducing skills!”

“Need I remind you that I am not above tattling on you?” he offering as he calmly drained his tea.

“Oh, yeah? To who?” Her arms crossed over her chest and she smirked. _This_ was why she loved visiting her bestie so much; he didn’t let her get away with much but he also didn’t make her feel like she was a kid playing at being an adult. None of their friends meant to make her feel that way, but she _had_ been little more than a kid when she’d first met them, and it was easy with them to let her insecurities get the better of her.

Steve returned the smirk with an exaggerated glare. “To whoever it takes. Caretaker, take care of thyself.”

Holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender, Claudia managed a tired smile. “Okay, poopy-pants. You win. I still need to talk to HG and find out more about what happened down-under.”

“You haven’t found anything on the artefact that whammied Myka?” Steve guessed.

“There’s nothing in the Warehouse. Anything in the memory-loss section doesn’t have the same effects. I could give you the memory span of a gold-fish or make you think you were an Egyptian pharaoh. I could give you the memories of your past life or make it so that you lived in nothing but moments of déjà vu, but nothing that could erase everything to a specific event.” There was clear frustration in her voice but also a hint of curiosity and determination. “Heracles is two millennia old. We might never have heard of any artefacts that he’s got in his possession.”

Steve frowned and gazed into his teacup as if he hoped it held all the answers. “You think he could have his own warehouse of artefacts?” He didn’t know how he hadn’t considered this before.

“No, I think he’s too careful to risk that. Our Warehouse is protected by so many whacky, paranormal components, it’d be almost impossible to recreate that. He’d be stupid to try, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s not stupid.” She paused for several seconds, as if lost in thought. “More likely, he has a select few that he’s managed to control.”

“I don’t know, Claude. All of these ‘big-bads’ usually suffer from a severe case of over-confidence. Even HG, from what I read of her downfall. They begin to think they’re invincible,” Steve argued.

Claudia’s head canted to one side and a pinched expression appeared at the mention of her friend’s foray to the dark-side. It reminded her that she needed to check in on Myka too. The couple had fought their way through so many obstacles that it seemed like nothing could tear them apart, but everyone had their Achilles’ heel and since she’d had a front-row seat to Myka’s heart-break the first time, she knew that the brunette had to be struggling with her current reality.

Coming out of her reverie, the redhead shrugged. “Maybe at some point he did experiment with keeping more of them together. I’m willing to bet that he relies on a few that he keeps with him, and on borrowing from the Warehouse when he’s desperate and prepared to risk sending someone in to sneak them to him.”

“Ok, if you’re sure.” Knowing that she’d made her mind up, he decided to change the subject slightly. “Have you heard from Meghan lately?”

“Her last report was two months ago,” she replied and winced. “Another thing that’s bugging me. I know she’s undercover but scary people lie under that duvet and any one of them might have been told to watch out for her.” She sighed, appearing exhausted again. “I should not have agreed to let her go.”

Steve smiled sadly. “I guess now you know how Artie felt every time he let you go out to chase artefacts with us,” he thought aloud. “Did you ever regret asking for more responsibility?”

“Could I be lying on some beach now, strumming for the tourists and sipping Mai-Tais while ogling the local studs?” she joked.

“I think you know the answer to _that,_ ” Steve chuckled.

“Yeah, I’d be back in the loony-bin.”

“If we’re lucky, we all make our own destiny. I think Meghan’s made her peace with that. She finally feels useful and she’s willing to pay the price. Think of how much we’ve learned.” Finally, having had enough tea, Jinksy picked up his mug and the tea-pot and took both to the sink. No matter how philosophical he might be about his cousin’s decisions though, after Meghan’s last call, he was worried for her safety. “I know she has her wits about her and that she’s content out in the field, but I hope she manages to check in soon.”

“Yeah,” she responded. She really couldn’t refute the fact that the young agent’s restless nature had provided them with valuable intel over the time she’d been working solo in the field. Apparently, she did her best work when she wasn’t forced to interact too often with colleagues. Claudia chose to trust that Meghan knew her limits. “Me too. I wish I knew what she was up to right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments. They really do keep me motivated!

** Chapter Four **

Eleanor watched her granddaughter closely as Helena climbed the tree-house ladder to where Catherine had hidden herself. She felt the knot in her stomach tighten and wished for the umpteenth time that she could wave a magic wand and bring Myka back to them. As she’d told Helena on her return to Colorado, she had faith that the couple would manage to find their way back to each other eventually. In the meantime though, the entire family had been torn apart in some way and there were new fires popping up every day, which the inventor was attempting to douse almost single-handedly.

Sighing again, she turned back to the kitchen to check on dinner. Rupert stood by the stove, stirring something in a large pot while Freddy watched on from a stool at the island and tried to cut carrots with one hand. His left leg, covered by a cast, lay propped on a chair and a wheelchair sat ready by the door to the hallway. One half of the teen’s torso was covered with bandages, his right arm wrapped tightly against his body, and a dazed expression sat on his face as a result of the painkillers he’d been prescribed. Though a jaunty tune played from the radio, a dark cloud hovered over the room.

Up in the tree-house, HG crawled through the hatch and found her youngest child lying face down in a pile of beanbags and blankets. While her son’s injuries brought to mind images of her bare hands wrapped around the neck of a faceless stranger, her baby girl’s tears and confusion threw her back to an empty room in a warehouse outside of Renmark and a falsely contrite face telling her that this was necessary. She hadn’t needed more incentive to want to stop Heracles’ quest to take over the Warehouse but, while there had been a fair amount of obligation fuelling her motivation before, now the fight was entirely personal. She might not be the impulsive, vengeful creature that she once was, but she would not let this attack go unpunished.

Finding a space close by, Helena sat and immediately threaded her fingers through dark hair. A sniffle came from the bundle of blankets, followed by a series of muffled words. “I’m sorry, love,” HG said gently. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

An indignant huff rose into the air before the eleven-year-old rolled onto her back. “I said – I want Mama to come home! Why isn’t she here?”

“Catherine,” HG sighed. “You know why, darling.”

“Because she doesn’t love us anymore. She doesn’t remember loving us,” Cat replied, her voice cracking as more tears streamed down her face. Her arm fell over her eyes to hide her misery and then she felt herself being lifted into a warm embrace. Instinctively, she twisted so that her head fell onto a welcoming shoulder.

Helena rocked the pre-teen back and forth for several minutes as she waited for the sobs to subside and to find her own voice again. When the girl’s hiccoughs slowed to around one every dozenth breath, she fished a tissue from her pocket and began to wipe away the tracks of tears.

As she smudged through a fine layer of dirt, she frowned. “Catherine, your face is filthy; what have you been doing?”

“Hiding,” came the scratchy reply.

“Where precisely?”

“Spyder showed me a hole in the hedge,” Cat explained, her pout still prominent. “It’s like Hattie’s from ‘Tom’s Midnight Garden’.”

“Does it also lead to geese and chaos?” Helena wondered lightly. She had hoped to draw a smile from the girl but only received a small shrug. “My love,” she began softly but with a strong sense of conviction in what she was about to say. “Our love for you, your Mama’s and mine, can never be extinguished. Myka has a temporary block on her memories, but that’s only up here,” she tapped her daughter’s forehead to make her point and then moved her hand to press against the girl’s heart. “You will always be in here.”

Catherine appeared to contemplate the idea, her gaze alternating in turn between the swaying leaves of the tree outside and her mother’s forlorn expression. There was a depth of sadness behind the inventor’s eyes that she had never seen before and a creeping, churning unease filled her stomach and throat. She suddenly realised that her Mum, always full of energy and vibrance, was hurting. “What about you?” she blurted without forethought.

Helena frowned. “I don’t comprehend your meaning.”

“Are you still in Mama’s heart?” she asked hopefully.

HG swallowed and smiled through a sudden prickling behind her eyes. “Yes,” she answered quickly, barely needing to think about her answer. By her wife’s own admission, Myka had never stopped loving her, even in the aftermath of her actions at Warehouse 2 and Yellowstone. “Myka is angry at present; she recalls some very bad decisions that I made, as if they happened yesterday, but she loves me. Of that I am sure.

“I know that life is difficult without Myka at home with us, my darling. We all must soldier on as best we can and be supportive of each other. So, do you think we can manage to do that?” Helena asked as she gently guided the girl’s eyes to her own. “None of this is fair on you, Fredrick or Christina, but we are a family and if we help each other through the hard times, we will be ready to appreciate the good times when they come. As in, when your Mama decides to come home.” She pushed hair behind Catherine’s ear. “We want to be ready for that, don’t we?”

Cat nodded eagerly, her young mind clinging to any crumb of assurance that her parent would return. She liked the idea of having a goal to work toward. “I can do that. And I can help you when you’re sad, Mum. Ma said it’s ok to cry ‘cause it lets people know we need them. But tears are powerful, so we should be careful how we use them. Like the boy who cried wolf.”

Helena smiled and shook her head. “Myka said that?” she wondered aloud. “Well, I do not know if I have much control over when I cry, but I will take her words into account.” She ruffled Cat’s hair and was relieved to finally see a genuine smile. “Are you ready to join the others for dinner? I fear that if we leave your brother alone for too long, he may lose a finger. I don’t know about you, my darling, but I do not want to find severed phalanges in my evening meal.”

Catherine pulled a face. “Yuck! I’m going to check all my carrots, just in case.”

“It would probably be easier to check Fredrick’s fingers to see if they’re all there,” the inventor suggested as they hastily packed the blankets away and descended into the garden.

“Good idea, Mum,” the eleven-year-old praised the Brit, as if it was a rare occurrence. She beamed from the ground before taking off across the lawn.

“Thank you, darling,” Helena murmured to herself with amusement. She followed the girl at a more reserved pace, her smile fading as she replayed their conversation. Catherine’s tears had apparently been cathartic enough to pull her out of her slump, but the inventor knew that she would have to keep a close eye on the eleven-year-old. She was cautiously optimistic that they could be a family again someday, but there was no telling how long it would take before her wife was ready to see that.

Though the initial shock had been devastating, since bringing their son home from the hospital and feeling Myka’s phantom presence in and around the house, that sense of loss had lessened. Artefact effects could be reversed or neutralised and she knew that the entire team would not stop until Myka had her memories back.

Then there were the offers of support that kept coming her way. Some had been surprising (Jeannie Bering’s firm support over the phone), and others not so much (Pete hugging her much longer than was necessary or comfortable). But more than anything, remaining with her was the burst of love that hit her right before their connection had faded away. It was _that_ feeling that she focussed on to get her out of bed in the morning or to hold herself together when she thought to reach out for her wife and found her absent.

As she stepped into the house, away from the last vestiges of orange from a setting sun, she hovered in the kitchen doorway and watched her family for a moment. Her mind was caught between opposing impulses: to rage and scream at the powers responsible for the cloud of grief that hung around their heads, or to be grateful for the tender smiles that passed between brother and sister, elders and youngsters, despite their circumstances.

Anger had been her go to answer to every perceived slight for a very long time, but life with her soul mate had tamed that impulse, and so had the need to be a role model for her children. So, she took a breath, and then another, letting the love-infused walls around her soak her thoughts with urges not of the murderous variety.

To get her wife back, she had to be better than the tormented and misguided woman who had betrayed her lover for the pursuit of vengeance. Myka’s and their children’s needs had to come before her own selfish demands, and with that realisation, she made the decision to show ‘Agent Bering’ that the brunette’s initial instincts in trusting her had not been so misplaced after all.

* * * * *

Sweat dripping from her forehead, Meghan creeped past the same van that she’d escaped capture in some days before and found the unguarded passageway that she’d spotted from a window above. With no other option available, she crossed the street and began to weave a winding path through the neatly gridded streets, disappearing into the residential heart of the city.

Though looking harassed and unkempt, she was relieved to find that no eyes lingered too long on her person. How long before that luck ran out though? She dared not call anyone else; she already suspected that there was interference somewhere along the line and calling Steve had felt like a big risk. But she was trapped between a rock and a hard place and needed help. She’d made the decision now, so there was no going back. Still, it worried her that Jason had been the one to pick up her call. She didn’t want to think the worst of her former partner, but with her own life on the line and a potential double agent in their inner circle, she had to explore every possibility.

As she stepped onto a bus that was bound for her next stop, Pueblo, she knew that she had to leave some evidence of her investigation for the rest of the team to find. After logging everything in her journal, she wrapped it and her cell phone up in an old t-shirt. She knew that it was a risk, to give up one of her lifelines, but if she didn’t manage to make it all the way to Denver, at least the team would stand a chance at finding out what had happened to her. If she was being romantic and fatalistic about it, she could even imagine that someone might avenge her untimely death.

The long bus ride gave her plenty of time to think and plan. At each stop, she hopped off the bus to stretch her legs, and each time she wondered if she should change it up – swap her plans so that no one would know her next step. The decision hinged heavily on the identity of the double agent. She hadn’t detected an artefact during her escape, at least, not one that she thought could be helping to track her, but that didn’t exclude the possibility of a person watching her every move. If she was being followed, then delaying her journey would only give them more opportunity to strike. If Jason, or another person close to her, was feeding information to the enemy however, then she would do well to deviate from anything she’d shared in conversation with either Steve or his husband.

Neither scenario filled her with confidence and, in the end, she made her decision based on wanting to look her enemy in the eye and have a chance at capturing the traitor on camera. After the bus dropped her in Pueblo and she checked into a motel, she spent most of the night anticipating a knock on the door. The quarter that she flipped in her hand alternated in turn between heads and tails, just the same as the images in her mind so that, when she finally heard footsteps approaching her door, she knew that her life was about to change direction again.

There was almost a sense of relief to be facing death with complete comprehension for what awaited her. She might be a pawn – a seemingly insignificant piece on the board that was inconvenient when in the way – but pawns could be powerful when played right. She checked the position of the hidden camera again, making sure that it was pointing at the door before she put her eye against the spy-hole. As she recognised her visitor and opened the door, she smiled.

“I had a feeling it was you,” she told the assassin coolly. She eyed the tranq-gun in his hand, knowing that it was probably loaded with something deadly. “You’re too late, you know? They’re going to know everything and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She watched him hesitate and used the moment to step into his space. Certain that his superiors would want to know more, she gambled and made the decision for him. If she couldn’t escape, then she damned well wasn’t going to let them take her alive.

The quiet ‘pop’ of the gun filled her ears and she looked down to find a dart sticking out of her stomach. Her finger fell from the trigger and she stepped back, a satisfied smirk tugging at her mouth. So much relied on faith: her team’s ability to find her warnings, her years of effort to discover Chapman’s plans, her surety that she was not wanted alive… Faith was not the enemy; she just hoped that she was making the right choice based on hers.

* * * * *

**Boulder, Colorado**

Myka hovered on the doorstep of the house that she supposedly lived in and willed herself to knock or use her key.

She’d taken Pete’s advice and, after hours spent staring at photographs of her children and watching home-movies with Tracy, she decided to bite the bullet and arrange time to visit… to meet her children for the first time. _The first time for me at least,_ she thought nervously. Helena had agreed readily and even offered to spend the morning with her grandparents so that Myka could concentrate on the children and not have to concern herself with _that_ awkward meeting just yet. It had seemed like a good idea at the time but now that she was standing on the threshold, she wondered whether it would have been better to have someone she knew present, even if that was someone who confused her to no end.

The sound of movement inside drew her from her convoluted thoughts and she glanced briefly back at the street when she became aware of how long she’d been standing there. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her key to the lock and let herself in. Though she’d agonised over the decision for longer than necessary and came to the conclusion that it would be stranger to knock on her own front door than simply walk through it, she still felt apprehensive as she stepped off the welcome mat, closed the door behind her and stood in the hallway with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

She considered and then doubted the urge to call out and announce her presence and instead tried to pull herself together. Just as her careful breathing was bringing her body back under control, a door slammed upstairs and made her jump.

“I can’t find my tense t-shirt!” a young voice yelled across the landing, followed by an aggravated huff.

“Cat, just put something else on,” came a rigidly calm response from the opposite direction.

“I can’t!” the young voice replied insistently. “It’s Mama’s favourite!”

A pause filled the air for several seconds and Myka swore that she could hear the second voice quietly counting to ten. “Have you tried the laundry hamper?”

There was no verbal response, but footsteps approached the top of the stairs and Myka steadied herself. When the pre-teen appeared in a rush of gangly limbs, the regent couldn’t help but remember her own uncoordinated gait at that age. She stood frozen by the front door and watched with baited breath as the girl began a rapid descent only to stiffen half way down when she noticed the visitor. Hazel eyes met green for what felt like a millennium and for a moment, Myka wondered whether she was being assessed. Then the young body was hurtling towards her and it was all she could do to brace herself for the impact.

A small ‘umph’ escaped the adult at the point of collision and she instinctively wrapped her arms around narrow shoulders and pulled the girl closer. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, holding her daughter. A fierce sense of belonging pulled at her from all sides and tears pricked at the backs of her eyelids as she breathed in the small body. She almost wanted the moment to last forever and somewhere in the far recesses of her mind, an idea took root: she could kill to protect this feeling.

Before long, the eleven-year-old retreated and beamed up at her lost parent. They shared the warm expression for a long moment before the girl appeared to remember her previous mission and her face fell. “You’re early,” she accused sharply. “I’m not ready yet!” she added and took off abruptly in the direction of the kitchen.

Before Myka could wonder at the sting of rejection in her gut, another figure appeared at the top of the stairs and descended with an energetic but controlled pace. Her arms opened again to receive the body of her eldest child and she felt the same compelling and wonderful sensations all over again.

Christina’s arms enveloped her mother’s shoulders and she buried her head between clavicle and jaw. “We’re so glad you’re here,” she whispered before pulling back to look the regent in the eye. “I know this has to be confusing for you, but you don’t need to worry. You’re a great mom and we will help with anything that doesn’t come naturally.”

“Thank you,” Myka replied, feeling genuine relief at the young woman’s words. She studied the adult in front of her and marvelled at the strangeness of having a grown child. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. You’re so big,” she muttered, drawing an amused smile from her daughter. “How did we… How did she and I…”

“Make us?” Christina hazarded a guess. At her mother’s nod, she explained, “Rick… Fredrick and I were a happy accident. Apparently, you and Uncle Pete were doing inventory at the Warehouse and he was being clumsy. Sophie was conceived at the same time.”

“So, Pete and I…?” the regent frowned, not liking the implications of that thought.

“No,” the young woman laughed. “Whatever the artefact did to you and Pete, you each went home to your significant others.” She paused there, knowing that the older woman wouldn’t be comfortable with too much detail.

“And Catherine?”

Christina shrugged. “Another artefact I was told, only you and Mum talked about it first. I wasn’t interested in more detail than that,” she added, pulling a comical face.

From behind the young woman came the sound of returning footsteps, but rather than the exuberant young girl, a woman with large, curly hair and a naturally tanned complexion appeared and made a bee-line for the regent. “Myka,” she greeted and pulled her old friend into a hug.

Myka sank into the embrace as her eyes became instantly and unexpectedly glassy. “Leena?” she asked, needing to confirm what her eyes were seeing. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“We thought that you would appreciate an old, familiar face, and mine is definitely both of those,” she joked before releasing the ex-agent. “Come on through to the back,” she suggested and chuckled as she added, “There’s a handsome young man waiting for you out there.”

“I’m going to check on Cat to make sure she’s not ransacking the laundry room,” Christina told them as they split off in different directions.

Myka followed her friend out to the back garden and found her eyes widening at the large open spaces and copses of trees; she hadn’t ventured out into the garden on her last visit. A large cottonwood stood prominently, almost in the centre of the garden, boasting the most impressive tree-house that she’d ever seen.

“Cool, huh?” said a new voice, prompting the regent to turn toward a teen in a wheelchair. He grinned up at her, his dark gaze reminding her of his other mother. “Mum helped us build it, and you helped us decorate it.”

“It’s incredible. You’re all very talented,” she told him and hesitated. _Do teenaged boys accept hugs?_ she wondered before deciding that _she_ needed one and moved to wrap her arms around her son as best she could. When his good arm wrapped tighter around her body than either of the girls’, she decided that gender was not a factor in the desire for parental comfort and held on for a bit longer. As she lowered into the chair beside him, her gaze fell on his wrapped shoulder and cast-encased leg and she suddenly understood Helena’s distress a little better. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she held onto his free hand.

Fredrick shrugged and flushed; his back straightened unconsciously and his face hardened just enough to show his discomfort without words. “I’m ok. Wish I could get around by myself but it could be worse, right?”

Myka cringed at the allusion to the end he might have met without interference from an outside party. She felt her gut tightening and wished for a second that she could feel the depth of emotion she would have felt with her memories intact. Though she was aware of the unusual destiny hanging over this family, only in the last five minutes had she truly wanted to know all the details and join the investigation. “We’ll find out what happened and make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she heard herself promise and gently squeezed the hand in hers.

“I know,” Freddy smiled sadly. “Mum’s digging into it with the others. She won’t give up.”

The regent’s mouth hardened at the mention of the Victorian and she bit back a sharp retort. “She is tenacious,” she said once she managed to find a milder adjective.

The teen watched his mother’s expression darken and felt a stab of compassion for his Mum. He’d seen his parents when they were angry at each other, but this was a different level of ire. He was beginning to realise just how much he took their love for granted. Their reunion wasn’t going to be easy. “So are you usually.”

Feeling a little shamefaced at being so transparently disparaging about her son’s other mother, Myka attempted an apologetic smile and changed the subject. Leena joined their conversation about the teen’s planned physical therapy and his hopes that he could include some hydrotherapy at his usual outdoor swimming hole. It wasn’t long before they heard the backdoor swing open with a jarring thud, revealing a happy eleven-year-old who was no longer togged in pyjamas, and her harried-looking sister.

The regent’s amused smile further crinkled the laughter lines already present around her eyes and she gave the young girl her full attention as Catherine came to stand directly in front of her. Quickly scanning the text on the pre-teen’s t-shirt, she chuckled and read aloud, “The past, the present and the future walked into a bar… It was tense!”

“Do you like it?” Catherine asked – a disproportionate amount of hope lighting her expression – as if her mother’s identity hung in the balance.

“Very witty,” Myka replied. “I love it,” she added and found something intangible but precious in the sheer delight gazing back at her.

She caught a brief exchange between the older siblings, but it wasn’t until she was back at the shop, locking up and ascending the stairs to the apartment, that she began to consider the meaning behind it. Her children had suddenly found themselves part of a broken family and it had to be playing on their minds, and yet they were upbeat, well-mannered and enthusiastic in the face of all that. This resilience had to be a testament to their upbringing and to the continued care they received from their Victorian mother, which created something of a conundrum in Myka’s thoughts. Knowing how fiercely she resented Helena for her betrayal and knowing that she could never blindly love someone who continued the pursuit of revenge and murder, she could only come to the conclusion that HG had reformed.

It didn’t change her feelings towards the woman who had taken her to bed with full comprehension of her plans to deceive her, but it did make her think better of the woman Helena had become. A thread of confusion wove around her feelings, wanting to separate the inventor into two people: all the easier to be angry at one and open to liking the other.

As she settled into bed and placed a photo of her children close by, she replayed the afternoon, appreciating how lucky she was. It was disappointing, as her eyelids became heavy, to acknowledge the fact that she could not wake up to their bright voices and faces. The only consoling thought was that she would be back in Boulder before the end of the week. Christina had informed her of a meeting with the other regents and ex-agents to discuss the investigation and she was determined to be a part of it.

She would find out who had hurt her babies.

* * * * *

**Stuttgart, Germany**

On the edge of the historic city, Heracles entered the private gardens of his modest estate and placed a paper cup in front of his companion. She glanced up at him with the trust and gratitude of many lifetimes combined and returned to her task. A mortar sat on the table, a lumpy mix of medicinal plants and oils sitting in the bottom while Cassandra ground further ingredients into the mix with a pestle.

“Some rituals become almost therapeutic after so long, do they not?” Heracles commented as he slipped into a chair beside his friend and watched her prepare the elixir that had sustained her for the majority of their time together.

“If only it did not taste so foul,” she threw back and glanced up through her eyelashes with a sardonic edge.

He lowered his head in response, lips pursed to cover any instinct he might have to show amusement. They were not average citizens – humour was a concept that had evolved so many times through the centuries that it had almost outgrown them. Moments like this were enough to concrete their bond; they didn’t need anything more to maintain motivation.

Cassandra continued crushing particles until a viscus paste coated the base of the mortar. Once she was satisfied with her work, she pulled a small scalpel from a purple cloth and drew it across the fleshy underpart of her left arm, letting it drip into the bowl. When she felt that there was enough, she wiped the blood from the blade, pushed the mortar across the table, handed the scalpel to Heracles and began the lengthy process of suturing the deep gash.

After letting a few drops of his own blood fall atop of Cassandra’s, the heir grabbed a gauze swab and pressed it casually against his wound. He watched with only a passing interest as she added enough vodka to make the concoction drinkable and then poured it into the paper cup. “Bottoms up,” he said with a crooked smile and watched her face as she tipped the cup back and recoiled at the taste.

“Never enough alcohol,” she observed, not for the first time, and crushed the cup before beginning to clean the bowl. A companionable silence existed between them as the ritual came to an end and the artefacts were rewrapped in a series of purple fabric strips and placed into a carved chest. “Our inside man fulfilled his obligation with the traitor. Her remains are in the vault.”

Heracles nodded as if pained to hear his friend’s words. “Such an unnecessary loss. You know how I hate to lose such potential.”

“She made her choice,” the bodyguard responded dismissively. “What is my next assignment?”

He almost smiled. “Much as I appreciate your dedication, we have reached another point of sabbatical. Your task for now is to close down the cells until we have need of them again.”

“You are sure?” she asked as a frown pulled at her features, deepening the scar along her cheek. “Bering and Wells will not remain at odds for long. In Mr Jinks’ latest report, he stated that he’d witnessed conflict in Myka’s anger. With no stage to display her contention, she will fall to her wife’s charms once more. We must make the most of this opportunity.”

“And so, we have,” Heracles replied. “I am strengthened. They will rebuild. It is as I’d hoped. You do not approve?” he asked somewhat tersely.

“I do not understand,” she clarified.

The heir reached over the table to run a slender thumb over the deep crevice of the scar that dominated his friend’s features. She had sacrificed much to protect him. It behoved him to quell his inner demon and offer patience. “You do not need to. But if you must, then remember that there is no honour in beating a foe who cannot defend themselves.” He leant back in his chair, his entire demeanour relaxed. “I must face their champion as an equal. That is all.”

Cassandra straightened and nodded. It was enough for her and she immediately resolved never to question his judgement on this subject again. “I have one more issue for your attention,” she told him. “Your son’s mother.”

An almost eye-roll pulled at Heracles’ face. “She wishes to see the boy,” he concluded rightly.

“She is insistent.”

“You have attempted to subdue her again?” he asked as more of a formality than to suggest that she’d not considered the option. “And there has been no response?”

“Initial indications show that the amulet works, but her maternal instinct appears to overpower the artefact’s power,” she informed him. “She will not bend to our will.”

“Yet another unnecessary loss,” he commented. “Very well. Remove her from the rest of the group – I do not want her compulsions to contaminate the others. See that she is confined in isolation.”

“It will be done.”

“Cassandra,” he added in a warning tone. There was a tiny, gleeful spark behind her eyes that always precluded injury to someone’s person. “She will be treated with the respect earned. See that her prison is comfortable, her food plentiful and her guard not prone to violence.”

Blue eyes met his defiantly for the briefest second before the expression melted away. “Yes. You are right. Thank you for reminding me,” she answered contritely.

He watched her with more compassion than he ever showed to another, recalling the injustices she’d suffered at the hands of a tyrant. “We cannot all carry our demons dear. You must remember to make yours work for you, not the other way around. To follow its whims is to remain beneath his lash.”

“I carry my prison and build or demolish its walls with my thoughts and actions,” she reminded herself of the philosophy they’d shared throughout the years. “I weaken or strengthen its walls depending on the thoughts and actions I choose to listen to and follow.”

“Very good,” he nodded, satisfied. He rose from his seat and watched as she followed suit. “I will leave you to it. I must prepare to move my son into the city. It is time to begin to inoculate him into society.”

“I will return when my tasks are complete,” she announced before inclining her head and leaving the garden.

She strode back through the house, her heading clear. Temporarily dissolving the cells – the cultist groups that gave Heracles increased influence around the world – would be as easy as flicking a light-switch. Leaving the head of each church the only remaining activists, who would lie low to keep an eye on their flock. Eventually, the sheep would not be needed and they could serve as cannon fodder should any of the Wells-Bering clan stand in Heracles’ way. Her idol was always so collected and calm when he decided that it was time to blend into the background again, and Cassandra tried to take her cue from him, but with each strategic retreat she was aware that they were moving ever closer to the pinnacle of his mission. Taking back the Warehouse.

This was the last time that they would lay low. Years might pass before they reared their heads again, but when it happened, they would finally face their destiny.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day spent with a drill in one hand and a paint brush in the other. I'm shattered. Hope you enjoy this one!

Helena’s heart fluttered as Pete entered the room with Myka and his mother directly behind him. It had been almost a week since she’d last seen her wife and her eyes drank in the brunette’s appearance like an elixir. She appeared tired but overall a great deal more relaxed than HG had expected. When Myka had left the Warehouse after the debacle in Egypt and Mrs Fredrick had asked Helena to speak to the young woman, Myka had (rightfully) wanted nothing to do with her. A brief moment of eyes meeting across the room revealed a flicker of understanding in green orbs that had not existed back then.

HG shot a small smile in that direction as she watched Christina enter and immediately commandeer Myka’s attention. It had been even more difficult to see the children missing their mother than enduring her own longings. A tear came to her eye as she watched her wife lean willingly into their daughter’s arms and she had to wipe it hastily away. She felt pressure on her shoulder and instinctively reached back for her grandmother’s hand.

“I miss her,” she whispered just loud enough for the older Victorian to hear.

Eleanor took a seat next to her granddaughter while making sure to keep her hand wrapped tightly around her Little One’s. “This separation will not last, Helena. Whatever Heracles’ intentions were in taking Myka’s memories, he will regret that decision eventually. Like a phoenix from the ashes, your love will alight once more and return stronger than ever.”

HG chuckled, appreciating the support. The woman’s words put her in mind of many conversations she’d had with her spouse. “Were you aware that we have a tendency to be overly pompous with our words, you and I?”

The elder Wells’ eyes twinkled at the question. “What an utterly ridiculous notion! Who informed you thus?”

“Myka,” Helena replied softly. “We were arguing once, not too long after witnessing an altercation you had with Grandfather. She said that we use words to make ourselves appear subtly superior.”

Eleanor suppressed a smirk. “And what was your response?”

“I informed her that words were merely one weapon in my arsenal and that I could end an argument without them.” She paused for effect, a smile morphing into a smug grin. “Then I kissed her and very little of intelligence was said thereafter.” They both laughed quietly to themselves but the jovial moment was short-lived.

Mrs Wells watched the smile fall from her granddaughter’s face and wished intently that she had the power to end the inventor’s misery. “Have faith, my love. You will prevail.” On spotting her great-granddaughter and Myka approaching, she squeezed Helena’s hand and let go so that she could stand to receive the American. “Myka,” she greeted and reached out to trap the regent’s outstretched hand gently between her own. “It seems not a moment ago that you and Christina were in London with us and causing a stir. It is not often that one has the opportunity to reintroduce oneself. Eleanor Wells, dear,” she finally said before releasing the startled woman.

As Christina sniggered and coughed into her fist, an exasperated and anxious sigh rose from the inventor. “Norie,” she warned. There was a slight flush to her cheeks that only the older Wells ever seemed to have a knack for causing. “I’m sure that Myka does not wish to be mauled.”

“Maul? Pish-tosh, Helena, I am doing no such thing. I simply wished to welcome my granddaughter-in-law back into the family.” Mrs Wells steamrolled over the social norms, knowing that the two women would walk endless circles around each other if she didn’t; they were still both so stubborn. “My dear,” she continued, though with a slightly more reserved tone, “you are enduring remarkably well, I must say. But then, I always knew that you were resilient. You would have to be, to keep this one in line for so long,” she added and gestured to HG.

Helena rolled her eyes, but as Myka seemed to be enjoying her humiliation, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for her grandmother’s interference. Before she could add anything to her defence or steer the conversation in a different direction though, another figure joined them, his arm winding deftly around the older Victorian’s waist and derailing her next teasing diatribe.

“Indeed, love,” Rupert interrupted his wife as he joined them. He kissed the corner of her mouth as she turned to smile at him and then focussed his attention on Myka. “Some of us yet await our medals for enduring the siren call of the Wells women with our sanity intact.” His calm tone and gentle smile dissolved any teasing in his words and his offered hand was immediately greeted by the American’s. “Rupert Wells.”

Myka couldn’t stop the chuckle that rose in her throat as Eleanor elbowed her husband in the ribs. She watched as his dark eyes twinkled with mirth and immediately recognised the same mischief that she’d seen in Helena’s gaze on occasion. Both of the newcomers shared some of those personality traits that had attracted her to the inventor in the first place, only this time, she wasn’t equally distracted by her body’s physical desires. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“I think everyone’s here,” Christina interrupted. She reached out to squeeze Myka’s arm before turning to sit with her boyfriend.

To Myka’s relief and disappointment, Mr Kosan arrived, offered her a brief greeting and suggested that they get started. She took a seat between Pete and Artie, separate from but in plain view of her new family. Any smiles or amusement vanished and they were left with a tense silence for several seconds. Myka wondered at the glances which focussed on her before they settled on HG.

Helena straightened and took the cue. “We have gathered today to discuss any and all findings relating to the recent attacks on our family.” Her eyes flicked automatically to her wife’s but didn’t linger. “Fredrick… our son, sustained a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a hairline fracture of his left fibula. And… my…” she faltered, dug her nails into her palm under the table and continued as if nothing were amiss. “Myka was exposed to an artefact which stole her memories of the last seventeen years. While both of these attacks were deliberate, we believe that they were largely unrelated.” She looked down the table and signalled for Pete to begin, and then sat back in her chair slightly as she listened, aware that she was being watched.

“Right, so yeah, me and Tommy went back with the A-Team to where we found Freddy and scoured the place for clues,” Pete began to explain. “Like we thought, there was just the one trail from the school, to the cabin and following Freddy into the trees. Looks like he was working alone.”

“And what about the other tracks?” Jane Lattimer asked in her usual brusque manner. Though retired from being a regent, she was still tied to the Warehouse by the Ramati shackle. Plus, as a constant in the lives of her children and grandchildren, she naturally kept up to date with the world of the Warehouse. Since regents were being replaced and no one could be confident of their loyalty, no one’s talents or experience could be left to go to waste.

“During his escape, Rick found a backpack with the name Hugh Parker written inside. He thinks that it was a child’s backpack but we’re tracing the name to see where it leads,” Christina explained briefly before turning to her boyfriend.

“The evidence suggests that Mr Parker, as we’re calling him for now, was targeted by a professional team of three.” Thomas unfolded a map and slid it closer to the middle of the table. “They parked on the highway and moved in this direction towards the cabin.” The map showed three red lines branching out from the road into the forest and then moving on parallel paths until they were close to where Fredrick was found. “Here is where we think Mr Parker was detected,” he pointed to where the lines began to regroup. He traced the three paths until they bunched together. “And this is when we heard the two gunshots.”

“We didn’t find a body, so we have to assume that they took Hugh with them,” Christina added. “This person,” she pointed to the middle red line, “approached Rick for a few seconds. He doesn’t remember much but thinks he saw a woman with a scar running across her face.”

“Do we think this ‘professional team of three’ are our allies?” Myka wondered aloud. In spite of her lingering scepticism, she couldn’t help but be drawn in. “Their timely intervention saved Freddy’s life.”

Helena shifted in her seat. “No,” she blurted and then immediately softened her tone when Myka glared at her for the interruption. “I’m sorry, but after the conversation I had with Mr Spenser-Chapman, I’m inclined to believe that this trio were under orders to eliminate a rogue faction.”

“A conversation that only _you_ were privy to?” Myka shot back, unmollified by the inventor’s apology.

HG stiffened as a chill encapsulated the room. Her gaze passed around those present and she was caught by the understanding that she could never truly be free of the mistakes she’d made in her darkest hours. At Mr Kosan’s nod, she took a breath and continued as if she was unperturbed by Myka’s passive-aggressive comment. “He puts a lot of stock in our ‘blood bond’, as he calls it. He seemed to think that I would be sympathetic to his goals because of my own misguided attempt to force change upon the world,” she held her wife’s gaze as she said this, communicating her willingness to admit to her own failings. The responding hardness in green eyes didn’t give her much hope though.

“When it became clear that I would not share his vision, it was as if a shadow of something darker crossed his face. Not simply an expression; anger or anything of the like, but a darker presence.” She addressed the table as a whole but remained turned to her spouse most of the time, as if she could convince Myka of her sincerity that way. “He claimed that he wished me no harm and that he regretted the necessity of giving the order. I assume that he meant the one which stole your memories, Myka.”

Myka swallowed against the churning turmoil inside of her. She heard the inventor’s words but struggled to process them – freezing under their weight. With those impossibly dark eyes fixed on her, she could concentrate on nothing but the tingle in the back of her throat and she hated it. Hated how weak Helena made her feel. It wasn’t until Artie started talking, positing reasons for their enemy’s unusual appearance, that she was finally able to tear her attention from the Victorian and begin to absorb everything she’d heard.

“If it’s so subtle, might Heracles have been ‘possessed’ without his father knowing it? It could be an artefact that’s been driving him all this time,” Myka suggested once she’d found her voice.

“It’s certainly a possibility. One which we should not dismiss,” Helena replied readily. The conversation moved round the table, the theories becoming more and more outlandish until they agreed that speculation was getting them nowhere and they shelved the discussion for a time when they had more evidence to go on.

It was early afternoon before they had exhausted all topics and agreed that they should call it a day. Myka’s head swam with information: an abundance of cultist groups popping up all over the new world and a missing agent; a mysterious, scarred figure and a rogue faction; family ties on both sides with opposing agendas; and _her_ children at the heart of it all, preparing to face off against a foe who was two millennia old. By the end of the meeting, she felt ashamed once again for her attitude towards her ex-lover, seeing the pettiness of her comments in the face of the journey that destiny had provided for them. She just knew that if she could do the last hour over again though, she would react the exact same way; Helena had a way of pushing buttons that she didn’t even know she had.

She hung back after everyone else had left, ostensibly to talk to Christina but really as an excuse to see Helena alone before she headed back to the bookshop. After her eldest had confirmed their lunch plans for the following day and Thomas had awkwardly bid her goodbye, she found herself alone in the dining room and at a loose end.

She wandered around the room, gazing at pictures and trying to imagine herself living in this space day in, day out, but it all felt so foreign. In light of some of the revelations exposed that afternoon, she knew that this space, this home, should feel like a second skin and it frustrated her that it didn’t. _How much worse must HG be feeling?_

With that thought on her mind, she wandered through the kitchen, absorbing again the cosy décor and warm feeling throughout. On first impression, she had thought the house too big and impersonal to be a family home that she would enjoy living in, but on reflection, that feeling probably had a lot to do with the fact that she had associated it with a person who she had lost faith in. The house didn’t make it a home, but the people did.

She found HG in the living room hovering by the fireplace and coughed lightly to get her attention. They stared at each other for several seconds before the Myka’s eyes wandered around the room and she searched for something to say. “It’s a nice house,” she commented lightly as she rocked on the soles of her feet and stood awkwardly between the door and couch. She had wanted to apologise for her earlier unfavourable comments, but the words stuck in her throat. She felt justified for responding to the inventor’s actions with suspicion and contempt, no matter how long ago the offence occurred.

Helena took a seat at a respectable distance, hoping that by sitting she would appear less threatening. “You wanted something less ostentatious,” she responded with a forced smile. “I wanted something grander. We compromised.”

The brunette took another quick look around her – she read the atmosphere in the room and crossed her arms over her torso. It wasn’t easy to appear relaxed when her body was telling her to run far away. All morning she’d been equally dreading and looking forward to the meeting at Helena’s. After meeting the children – _her_ children – she’d spent hours each day wandering into thoughts about life as their mother and as HG’s wife. Added into that a visit from her sister, and she was rapidly becoming hooked by this new reality.

She still couldn’t seem to shift that voice of doubt that lingered in the back of her mind though. Its words were not as loud as they’d been a week ago, but they were persistent enough that she couldn’t let herself relax. There would be many awkward conversations before she could trust her senses in this world.

“Christina told me that we have a library and a laboratory,” she began abruptly, feeling the silence as a drill boring into her thoughts. “Are those our respective refuges?”

The inventor breathed an internal sigh. She missed instinctively knowing her wife’s feelings, but she knew Myka well enough to see that she was uncomfortable being alone with her. She tried to keep the aggravation from her voice as she answered, “Yes and no. Our respective interests naturally take us to those places, but you often come to the lab to watch me work and I enjoy spending time with you in the library, listening to you read. Both served as school rooms when the children were younger.”

Myka saw the frustration on Helena’s face and heard the changing pitch of her tone. She almost regretted starting this conversation and shuffled from one foot to the other, unconsciously taking a step closer to the doorway. “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

HG sighed again and closed her eyes while she gathered her wayward emotions. “It’s not you, Myka. Neither of us is to blame for the situation in which we find ourselves,” she responded quietly. Her gaze travelled over furniture and décor alike, recalling every conversation and dispute over style, colour, price and other numerous little inconsequential moments that she sorely missed. “Some days, it is more of a struggle to not let my anger dominate my thoughts… You should not have to ask questions about your home. You were happy here and someone stole that from you!” She allowed the words fall from her without thinking too much on their impact. Abigail had suggested, and she’d grudgingly agreed, that being open with Myka was the best way to prove that she’d changed and would eventually earn the brunette’s trust. With the words though came the feelings that she was trying to manage. She reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, Myka. There is a fine line between being honest with you and burdening you with more than you should be expected to deal with.”

A nod came in response. “I want you to be honest with me.” Helena’s distress allowed Myka to ignore her own discomfort a little and she moved to perch on the arm of the couch, letting her hands fall into her lap. “This isn’t easy on either of us, but I think honesty is a good place to start, don’t you?” She wasn’t prepared to get into a deep conversation and she felt like the last person who could offer HG comfort, so she tried to change the subject before the Brit could respond. “I enjoyed spending time with the kids the other day.” Her words had the desired effect and she congratulated herself as a smile crept into the inventor’s forlorn expression.

“They miss you,” Helena admitted cautiously. She was conscious of not wanting to put too much pressure on Myka. The brunette surprised her though by smiling.

“I’d like to see them more often. It’ll be easy enough to arrange time with Christina; we’ve already decided to have lunch tomorrow, but I think it might be easier to see Freddy and Cat here for a while,” Myka suggested in a sudden rush of words. “Particularly while Freddy can’t get around easily.” For a moment she felt like they were a divorced couple who were working out visiting and custody arrangements. A divorced couple who were still very much in love, however reluctantly her side felt at present.

For her part, Helena couldn’t help but feel delighted by the opportunity it afforded her to spend more time with her wife. Parenthood suited them both and, while the years had seen them build strong bonds in many areas, this was one area that they could explore without Myka feeling too uncomfortable with their romantic status. “You have a key, so you can pop by any time you wish. I’ll give you their schedules so you’ll know where they are and when. Fredrick will be at home for a few weeks, until the doctor clears him to return to school.”

“A few weeks is a long time to miss school,” Myka observed. “Will you go back to home schooling him?”

“Yes, though on a reduced timetable; he’s still heavily affected by his medication.” Thinking that she knew where this was leading to, HG added, “Do you want to help?”

Myka’s expression brightened instantly. “You wouldn’t mind?” Worrying that she was being too enthusiastic when she’d recently been shouting at the Brit and throwing accusations at her, she let her expression fall and sobered. “I always liked the idea of lessons at home with my kids. No worrying about who thinks you’re a nerd or having to stop because some jock thinks it’s funny to steal your equipment when you’re not looking. Just pure enjoyment of learning.”

“Christina and Fredrick are confident enough that they have managed to successfully deflect most attempts at teasing. They found their respective niches,” Helena explained. “Catherine has struggled, though I think she’s beginning to find her feet. We saw her teacher just a few days before leaving for Australia…” She continued to update her wife on the meeting and the resulting conversations that they’d had with their daughter.

The more they talked, the more relaxed they both felt. Myka lost the last hint of harshness from her tone and they managed to spend an hour discussing visits and lessons for the next month. Fredrick’s teachers had agreed to send assignment home for him and between them they managed to plan Myka’s visits for the next week. As they ran out of segues and questions though, the conversation fizzled out and Myka suddenly realised that she’d forgotten all about Egypt and its associated devastation.

She cleared her throat and swallowed the smile that had crept onto her features. “I think that’s sorted then,” she finished uneasily.

A wave of disappointment crashed into the inventor. “Of course. You’re not staying until Fredrick and Catherine come home?” she asked hopefully.

“I told Pete that I’d stop by, so I’ll see them there,” Myka replied as she slipped off the couch and placed some distance between them again. Her heart was drumming a rapid staccato in her chest and her brain took her to another couch in a bed and breakfast in South Dakota. She avoided eye contact as she tried to shake the provocative images from her mind.

HG watched a blush creep along her wife’s neck and wondered at its source. More often than not, embarrassment was a direct result of salacious thought, but since she no longer had a direct link to Myka’s feelings, she thought it best to avoid probing. A tiny part of her decided to take the abrupt change in behaviour as a sign that the brunette was still affected by their close proximity. A positive sign, she hoped.

As the front door closed behind Myka and the house fell silent, Helena stood in the hallway, at a loss for what to do with herself next. It was the first time she’d truly been alone since she’d been living in her small town-house in Rapid City sixteen years ago. While she had physically spent time without company, since reconnecting to Myka, she had had a deeper link that was always with her and now, the emptiness that suddenly filled her was jarring.

Arms crossed her torso, hugging her body tightly and trying to keep all of her insides from falling out. Not knowing what else to do, she returned to the living room and reclaimed her position on the couch. Two feet found the edge of the seat, pushing her knees into her chest, where her arms fell to hold them in place. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, staring into space as silent tears painted tracks along her cheeks, but at some point, an insistent mewling drew her attention and she looked up to find a furry face watching her intently.

For several minutes, human and feline engaged in a battle of wills, each taunting the other, daring them to make a move, until the inventor rolled her eyes and lowered her feet to the floor. _I must be desperate,_ a grumpy voice sounded in her head as she raised a questioning eyebrow and patted her lap, inviting the creature closer.

Helena tried to convince herself, as her fingers stroked through warm fur and her tears flowed a little less painfully, that she still disliked the animal and always had; that he was arrogant, unhygienic and generally a pain in the arse, but her daughter found something to love about the cat so she tolerated him. Now, despite her best effort not to, she found comfort in his warmth and the enthusiasm of his purring.

“I suppose you are not wholly evil,” she muttered to the top of a flickering ear. Her fingers traced barely discernible stripes in the black fur and both of them sighed. “I suppose that applies to the both of us. Though I wish that Myka could see that more clearly.”

“Mummy?”

Helena’s head snapped round, her eyes wide as she met the gaze of her youngest child. “Oh! Catherine, I didn’t realise that you were home.” She moved to lift the cat from her lap but felt claws extend into her trousers just as her daughter leaped over the arm of the couch and landed next to her. “I see how it is,” she hissed to the feline. “Are all your loyalties so fickle?”

“Mum,” Catherine frowned and scrutinised her mother’s face more closely. “Your eyes are red. Were you crying?” She lowered her voice and shuffled closer. “It’s ok,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around the inventor’s neck.

HG laughed wetly and leant against the youngster. _How does an eleven-year-old become so wise?_ she thought for a second. She knew that Catherine’s words weren’t to tell her that everything with Myka would be ok, but that in this moment, it was ok to cry. “Thank you, my darling. Did you enjoy your afternoon with the Lattimer brood?”

Cat shrugged. “Jake was being weird so I watched TV with Sophie and then I played backgammon with Mama.” She laid a hand absentmindedly on top of her pet’s head and began a light scratching that gradually dislodged clumps of fur and brought an expression of distaste to her mother’s expression, to which she paid no attention. “I heard her talking to Uncle Pete about you,” she said in an offhand manner that was entirely forced.

Helena forced an equally offhand tone as she answered, “And what did she have to say?”

“She told Uncle Pete that you’re still dangerously alluring. Doesn’t _alluring_ mean _sexy_?” the girl asked without pause.

Clearing her throat and head from the shock of her daughter’s words, HG turned to reply, “It could be interpreted that way.” She wasn’t sure whether her cheeks were red or not, but a definite warmth crept up from her neck.

“That’s gross,” Catherine pulled a face before mellowing. “But I guess it’s good if it means that Mama wants to kiss you. Then she’ll come back home and live with us again so you can copulate in your bedroom.”

Anyone watching would have found the inventor’s bug-eyed expression comical as she spluttered and jumped so violently in her seat that she unintentionally dislodged the creature curled in her lap. Spyder jumped down, threw the adult human a dirty look and wandered out of the room. “Copu’… what!?”

“Copulate. It means ‘have sex’. Didn’t you know that, Mum?” the girl responded, her innocence genuine this time.

“Where did you hear that word?” the inventor asked carefully. While she and Myka had discussed puberty and some of the basics of reproduction with their youngest, they had yet to open the floor to more detail about recreational sex or how the egg and sperm traditionally found their way together to create a zygote.

“On ‘The Big Bang Theory’. Sophie likes watching old shows,” she explained before continuing with her previous line of thought, “If you and Mama are copulating, she’ll have to live with us again, won’t she?”

Helena looked at the eleven-year-old with a mixture of pity and amazement. “It’s not a prerequisite, love, no. And I believe that we’re getting way ahead of ourselves in discussing this.”

Catherine frowned and gazed at her mother in confusion. “You do _want_ Mama to come home, don’t you, Mum?”

Reaching over to tuck a lock of stray hair behind an ear, HG smiled softly. “Of course, I do. But, Catherine, you need to understand that, while there might still be a physical attraction between us, living together requires more than wanting to kiss… or copulate.”

“You said that Mama still loves you,” the girl replied stubbornly.

“And so, I believe she does. But,” she added insistently before her daughter could interrupt, “she is still upset about the choices I made in the past, and she is still confused about how she fits into this life that she can’t remember. I know how impatient you usually are, but all good things come to those who wait.”

“That’s not entirely true, Mum,” Cat replied contemptuously. “Sometimes you have to be pro-active. _You_ told me that!”

HG huffed with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “So I did. And if the opportunity arises where I feel that patience is not the best choice then I will, as you say, be pro-active. Satisfied?”

“I will be,” Catherine answered before laying her head on her mother’s shoulder. “When Mama’s home.”

Helena rolled her eyes and muttered ‘stubborn’ under her breath before changing the subject. “Where’s your brother?”

“Outside. He’s talking to Tommy about hydrotherapy, again!” the girl replied with an eyeroll to rival her mother’s.

The inventor smiled at her daughter’s obvious irritation and turned her head to kiss the closest piece of skin she could find. “Let us fetch the big water-baby then. It’s getting late. Do you have a preference for dinner?”

Letting her children’s natural exuberance lift her spirits, Helena gave Fredrick a task that he could manage at the kitchen island and allowed Catherine to follow her around, preparing a cheese sauce and measuring pasta. She was well aware that her son would probably rather be in his room, doing whatever it was that teenaged boys liked to do, but he was cutting vegetables without complaint, keeping his mother company, and she appreciated his presence all the more because of it. As she slid a brimming baking dish into the oven, she made a mental note to organise a day out for him without his mothers and sisters.

Pretending not to notice the bushy tail curling over Catherine’s leg as she said goodnight a few hours later, Helena retreated to her own room, showered and crawled into her own bed. She had no delusions of being able to slip easily into sleep, but all energy seemed to have drained from her body and the darkness allowed her to call on memories that helped to calm her emotions.

She wondered what Myka was doing at that very moment. What was she thinking about? What did she plan to do next? Did she think any better or less of Helena since getting to know their life a little? Did she have any further insights into the investigation? The questions seemed endless and, somewhere close to midnight, they followed her into sleep.

* * * * *

Claudia ground her teeth together as she stood behind the man sitting in his desk chair, pushing the keys of her laptop with his sausage fingers. “Dude! I came to you for help, not so you could break all my toys with your geriatric fumbling!” she groused as she gently but insistently removed a jumble of wires and plastic from Artie’s hands. The ex-director glared at his protégé. “Don’t think you’re going to find your hips anytime soon,” she commented with a critical eye as she watched him adopt a disapproving stance.

“Did you come here just to insult me?” he asked bluntly. “I am not senile and I know what your problem is.” He held out a hand and waited expectantly for the woman to hand the device back. Once he had it again, he deliberately took his time, hoping to torture the insolent red head a little.

It was their usual back and forth dance and, though neither would admit it, they missed these pseudo father/daughter moments. Claudia constantly insisted that Artie was old and useless even when she kept returning to ask for his help, and Artie grumbled each time she turned up on his doorstep, reminding her that he was retired and just wanted to live ‘the quiet life’ with his spouse. Deep down, they both knew that they needed each other for more than technical or supernatural advice, but the pretext suited them and by unspoken agreement, they kept to the status quo.

“Ooh!” Claudia suddenly squeaked with excitement as her gadget lit up like a Christmas tree. “We’ve got it. I’m tracking her cell.”

“You’re welcome,” Artie muttered pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, grumpy bear,” the caretaker rolled her eyes fondly. “Do you want a gold star?” she winked and then laughed at the series of grumbled insults that followed.

“Where is she then?” he asked impatiently.

All jovial feeling drained from her face and a frown settled on her brow. “Garden City. That’s a long way from where she last checked in.”

“She’s heading back this way,” Artie concluded as he studied the under-cover agent’s journey.

“She was supposed to head east next, to Boston,” Claudia explained as her expression became more concerned. “But she seems to have stopped moving. According to her phone’s location tracking she’s been in Garden City for a week.”

“Send a squad. Thomas’s would be best I think,” Artie suggested, as if he was giving an order. “If there’s anything to retrieve, they’ll find it.”

Claudia nodded and then announced a snap decision, “I should go with them.”

“You delegate,” Artie noted adamantly, “so you can keep tabs on the rest of your team. Including the Warehouse’s new crew. You’ll regret spreading yourself so thin if you go chasing after each problem personally.”

“I’m hands on,” Claudia argued pointlessly.

“Do you remember what happened when I tried to be too hands on? You hit me with a two-by-two and then with a car door,” he reminded her and couldn’t help rubbing the back of his head where he swore he could sometimes still feel a lump.

Adopting a look of youthful innocence, the red head appeared inscrutable for a second. “Are you saying that I’ll be attacked with random objects if I get involved?”

Artie frowned, allowing his eyebrows to draw together into one long, bushy caterpillar. “Yes, if it persuades you to lead from behind.”

Claudia glared at him at length, eventually having to shake her head to drag herself out of a hypnotic state, induced by the abundance of facial hair. “It’s like they’re alive,” she mumbled to herself, a stray hand reaching out, a finger daring to poke at an eyebrow.

A severe eye-roll punctuated her comment and the ex-director gripped the back of the chair that he stood behind. “If you insist on being an idiot, _they_ might just jump off randomly and attack.”

“Ok,” the red head jumped and held her hands up in surrender. “Point. Taken. Put the eyebrows away, grandpa.” She sighed, glanced back at the tracking device and nodded with a new note of seriousness. “I’ll send Thomas and his team.”

“I know you don’t like it, but with questions over everyone at the new Warehouse, you need to be there.” Artie returned the caretaker’s expression and added to it with an edge of sympathy. They both knew that he was right, and she really didn’t like it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss Claudia and Artie.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continued support. I was pleasantly surprised by the concern and fondness for Meghan. It's hard to let go of characters, especially original ones. Your comments and kudos help a lot.

** Chapter Six **

Myka pottered around in the living room, taking ‘clutter’ from the coffee table and putting it away as she waited for her sister to arrive. She hadn’t thought to contact Tracy immediately after the events in Australia. As far as she could remember, they only spoke to each other at Christmas and other occasions where they both met with their parents. It had come as a pleasant surprise to learn that, not only were they close friends, but that the younger Bering was privy to all of her Warehouse secrets too.

It had been four days after moving into the shop apartment when Tracy had first turned up, accompanied by a puzzled-looking six-year-old. The moment they were in the door, the younger woman had pulled her sister into a hug, almost crushing the life out of her.

_“Er, hi?” Myka said as she patted her sister’s back and tried to understand what was happening._

_“Helena called me,” Tracy explained into the shell of an ear. “This is weird for you, isn’t it?” she asked before pulling back and holding the regent trapped at arms’ length._

_“A bit, but it’s ok,” Myka backtracked hastily. “It’s a nice surprise.” The silent perusal continued past the point of comfortable and the regent had to cough to cover her squirming. “So,” she began, drawing out the word. “We do this a lot?”_

_“Perhaps not this exact thing,” Tracy shrugged through a relaxed grin. “We’ve been close for so long now, I barely remember a time when we didn’t get along. Being with HG and Christina changed you for the better; loosened you up,” she teased and, to the older woman’s relief, dropped her arms. “And I finally learnt to appreciate what an awesome sister I have… You of course always knew I was amazing.”_

_Rolling her eyes, Myka smacked Tracy’s shoulder. She rested aimless hands on her hips and searched around for something to say. Her eyes caught the gaze of the little boy. “So, who’s this little guy?”_

_“I’m Mikey,” the six-year-old answered with an expression that clearly said ‘you should know that’. He considered his aunt for several seconds before turning to his mother. “Mommy, can I go play now?”_

_Tracy scruffed his hair. “Yes,” she responded with fond exasperation. “Just remember: whatever you get out, you have to tidy away.” She slumped into the couch and looked up at her sister’s lost expression. “He’s six going-on sixteen. All I hear from him these days is ‘Freddy this’ and ‘Danny that’.”_

_“Danny?” Myka asked as she cautiously took a seat on the far end of the couch._

_“Michael’s older brother, Daniel. He’s just a few months older than Freddy.” Studying the regent for a moment, Tracy sighed. “You really did lose a huge chunk of your memories, huh? That’s like, ironic or something, right? What with you having a photographic memory and all?”_

_The regent didn’t smile. Later, she would attribute her reaction to simple confusion for the reality in which she found herself, but whatever the cause, the reminder that she wasn’t entirely compos-mentis made her feel defensive instead and she stiffened. “Are you going to tell me that I owe you money or something?”_

_Though feeling the sting of the accusation, spoken in a tone that she recalled well from their days as teens, Tracy decided to find the funny side. “You got me! I lent you five grand and I’ve come to collect.”_

_Myka flushed, hesitating as she realised the harshness of her words and once again tried to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I…” Tears of frustration and confusion pricked at the backs of her eyes but she fought them back._

_Tracy nodded and leaned forward onto her elbows. She couldn’t begin to imagine how it would feel to lose all memories of a happy life with her family. She wasn’t sure what might trigger the regent’s defences but knew that she couldn’t always walk on eggshells. “Helena said that you’re not sure if this is reality or something cooked up by an artefact.”_

_The apology died on Myka’s face at the mention of the Victorian and she scrutinised her sister. “Yeah. What else did she say to you?”_

_Tracy lowered her voice to answer, not wanting her son to overhear. “That you’re pretty pissed off with her.” She watched the fight drain temporarily from her sister’s eyes as the regent’s mind took her to a dark place. “I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through right now, but I know what happened in Egypt and I know about all of the horrible things that Helena did. You need time to process all of that again, but you’re not alone this time. Ok, Myka?” She reached over to wrap a hand around a clenched fist. “Artefact fantasy or not, you have a lot of people on your side. Don’t forget that.”_

_Myka stared at her sister for several seconds, as if the other woman had grown a second head. How could this be real? Every one of her senses told her that it wasn’t a dream and yet she couldn’t quite wrap her head around her sister being there, offering support._

_“I can see those cogs turning, Myka,” Tracy teased with an understanding smile. She reached into her bag and pulled out a media storage device. “I have just the remedy for that – home movies!”_

The movies had consisted of Kevin, Tracy and their two boys, mostly at home wrestling on the living room rug or chasing each other around the garden, but occasionally, amongst them was a clip of Myka and her children, which inevitably included a peek of Helena.

Now, almost a month later, the shock had started to wear off and those glimpses were becoming more tantalising than tormenting. That was why she often found herself tidying things that didn’t need to be tidied, as a way to keep her mind occupied. Though, since most of those menial tasks were second nature to her now, the action had become more of a nervous habit than anything.

A huff of relief passed her lips as she heard footsteps on the stairs leading up into the apartment and she hastily dropped a now polished coaster back onto the coffee table. “Hey Trace,” she greeted as the young woman entered the living room, carrying her overnight bag. She stole herself for the hug that was bound to come and felt triumphant in noticing that the awkwardness was no longer there. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”

“Feeling stir crazy?” Tracy asked with a knowing look. She fell into the couch and her companion followed suit.

Myka shrugged and thought about her obsessive cleaning. “A bit. I just can’t switch off when I’m on my own.”

“Yeah? Well I’ve told ya, you don’t have to be on your own, Myka,” the younger woman retorted as she kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable. “I’m surprised that you haven’t spent more time in the shop at least.”

The regent felt her sister’s eyes boring into the side of her head and shifted self-consciously in her seat. “I don’t know what I’m doing down there,” she responded sullenly.

“So, you’ll learn…? It’s a bookshop. Aren’t books like familiars to you?” Tracy said, her tone light but making it clear that she thought the excuse was worthless. “Come on, sis, you’ve never shied away from learning. What’s the big deal?”

Myka sighed and sank her fingers into her curls. “I just… I don’t want to break anything.”

“Break anything?” Tracy mulled over those words for a moment until she thought she understood what her sibling meant. “You think you’ll do something to compromise the life that you and Helena have built together?”

The older Bering searched her feelings and eventually nodded. “Not _me_. The Myka that you knew before she lost her memories… _She_ had a wife, kids, a house, a position of respect and authority, and I’m…”

_Abigail would say something about that third person stuff,_ the younger sibling thought to herself as she listened to her sister speak. Psychology wasn’t her thing though, so she simply said the first thing that came to mind, “Just a woman who fell in love and got her heart broken?”

Myka nodded and shifted uncomfortably. “I should have known better. I should’ve listened to Artie and then… who knows…? Helena might have gotten the help she needed and I wouldn’t’ve endangered the entire team… the entire world,” she lamented.

The frown marring Tracy’s features deepened. “Didn’t Artie want to put her back in the bronzer?” Before her sister could even begin to think of a response, she shook her head. “It unnerves me when you say things that make me sound like the smart one.” She waited to catch the regent’s eyes with her own hard gaze. “The position, the house, the kids and _especially_ the wife are all part of your life _because_ you trusted your instincts and let yourself fall. And not just once, but you let HG back in after she went bat-shit crazy.”

Myka tried to control the sullen expression that wanted to take over her face, but it wasn’t easy when her _younger_ sister was telling her off and making a lot of sense to boot. “People would say I was stupid to trust her again,” she argued weakly.

“People are stupid. Do you care what they think?” An annoyed wave dismissed any answer that might have been forthcoming. “For someone who likes to look at the evidence, you’re making a lot of assumptions about what-ifs,” Tracy retorted. She sighed heavily, releasing the irritation that was backing up in her veins. “Look, be angry all you like. HG hurt you and you’ve got to exorcise that somehow. But don’t rationalise your life. It won’t fit neatly inside a box. Just… let it happen – if it feels right, do it.” She watched a shadow of panic cross her companion’s features and began to consider a new avenue of enquiry. “Unless… Myka, are you already thinking about giving it another go with HG?” She sat forward in her chair, her whole body turned to show her indivisible attention.

“No!” she shook her head profusely. Feeling trapped under the scrutiny, Myka wiped suddenly sweaty palms against her trousers. “I don’t… I’m not ready for… that.”

Recognising the walls that were going up all around her sister, Tracy sat back, taking the pressure off. “Ok, I get it. I don’t mean to push, really. Maybe we should talk about something else for a while but,” she clasped her hands together in her lap and turned her serious expression on her sister, “before we change the subject, I just want you to know that you and Helena were happy together for years and I want that for you again.”

Myka watched the other woman for long enough to know that the younger Bering was being deadly serious. Every time Helena came to the shop to pick the kids up, or Myka visited her marital home to spend time with her children, she felt the same pull that had affected her when she’d first met the fugitive HG Wells. She’d tried to resist it then too, to no avail. This time, she’d sworn that she wouldn’t be drawn in so easily, but domestic, remorseful Helena Wells was a different creature entirely. Perhaps Tracy had the right idea and she should stop overthinking her life. Every little decision these days had her second guessing herself and the effort was exhausting. Could she and HG be happy again?

_What if I’m not what she wants anymore? She’s changed, but I haven’t… And there I go again, overthinking._ Going with the change of subject, Myka considered the amount of time they had to spend together and asked her sister to pull out whatever she’d brought for them to watch. Tracy revealed another data storage device and plugged it into the TV while Myka made coffee.

For the next hour or so, they sat companionably, enjoying the everyday lives of Tracy, Kevin and their boys. Over the last month, Myka had watched her sister’s family grow and shrink again, the clips playing in random order – typical for her disorganised sibling – and she’d been tempted to ask whether movies of her own family existed. In the darkest parts of her imagination, she pictured Helena sneaking off into her basement laboratory to cook up her next diabolical plot, but thoughts like those seemed more ridiculous with each day that passed. Perhaps seeing evidence of their life together would get rid of them entirely. Little did she know that she was about to get an unexpected peek of just that.

Following yet another chaotic birthday for Daniel, the setting suddenly changed to a holiday on the beach and from the off-set it was clear that many more people were involved. As well as the Littlewoods’ children, there was Sophie and Jake Lattimer and Christina, Fredrick and Catherine Wells-Bering. And with the children inevitably came their parents.

As the scene began to play, the camera panned along a bright beach to the sound of adults chatting and children laughing in the background. When the image stopped, Helena was the dominant figure on screen. Lying on the sand, her elbows propping her up, she playfully protested while her children bustled around, covering her with sand, and a younger Myka stood at a distance and laughed.

Tracy heard the surprised intake of air from her sister and reached for the remote to press stop. “Sorry,” she said hastily as green eyes turned to her in question. “I forgot that one was on there.”

“Why’d you turn it off?” Myka asked without thinking. They’d watched several hours of her sister’s home-movies by now and, while she hadn’t consciously admitted it to herself, she got a thrill out of seeing the occasional glimpse of the inventor. A primal part of her was hungry for more and objected to the interruption; the sight of Helena lying on the beach, laughing, was intoxicating.

“Do you want to watch it?” Tracy asked with that same knowing glance that she’d worn earlier in the afternoon.

Myka hesitated. Yes, she did want to watch it. Almost desperately. But she knew she’d already revealed too much and felt abruptly self-conscious. “No, it’s fine. Maybe we should switch it off now.”

Reading between the lines, Tracy complied, her fingers finding the button on the remote to turn the TV off. But she deliberately didn’t remove the memory stick, hoping that Myka would watch it after she left the following day.

They played cards, shared a bottle of wine, dragged half of the photo albums from the shelves and reminisced, in light-hearted fashion, about the many quarrels and outright fights they’d had as children. Thanks to the remaining portion of Myka’s eidetic memory, they managed to recall some of the rainy days when they’d been forced to spend time together and hadn’t come to blows.

The following afternoon, when Tracy placed her mug by the sink and grabbed her bag, they both knew what the younger woman’s intentions were in leaving the media device behind. It was ludicrous that Myka should have to pretend to be ignorant of her sister’s actions, but that was just how she was used to dealing with these emotionally heavy situations. She’d never been good at sharing her feelings, perhaps as a result of her father’s stoic manner and her desperation to please him, and the idea of having an audience to her rawest emotions was terrifying, even if it was just her sister.

Once alone in the apartment, the regent waited until after closing time and Jason’s usual ‘Bye, Myka!’ before pouring herself a glass of wine and sitting back down in front of the TV. She stared at the blank screen, sipping at the deep, red liquid in her glass as her free hand played with the remote.

“This is pathetic,” she muttered to herself. A thumb brought the screen to life and then hovered over the play button. She sucked in a deep breath. “Here goes nothing…”

* * * * *

Claudia frowned at the report she’d just received from Thomas’ team. They’d retraced Megan’s westward journey across the states and discovered clues from her at almost every major wayside station. After three or four locker-drops, they’d spread out across the route to look for more and as they did, a disturbing picture emerged.

Now, as the caretaker read the latest, she felt an overwhelming urge to abandon her post and return to the simple life she’d had as an agent… or even as a mental patient. At least then, she hadn’t had to make decisions about her friends’ lives or expose traitors in their family. She didn’t have to toy with keeping secrets that could end with people she loved dying.

_This news is gonna kill Steve,_ she thought as she closed the report and tried to decide what to do next. Recalling the advice Artie had given her about delegating, she quickly realised that whatever plans she made, she could not do so alone. This information affected the whole team and they all needed to know what was happening.

* * * * *

Myka looked across the shop floor and past one or two milling customers to where her two eldest children sat with their heads together. The existing wheelchair access had served them well as Freddy was still unable to use crutches and, since agreeing the arrangement with Helena, Christina picked her siblings up after school on a Friday and brought them to Colorado Springs.

In the evenings, HG had been driving down to take them home again. A three hour round trip that she never complained about and an event that the American found herself increasingly looking forward to. So much so that she’d suggested that the inventor should arrive early to join them for dinner today. All afternoon she’d been clock-watching, waiting for that moment when they would close their doors to the public and make their way to the upstairs apartment. Soon after that, Helena should be there, helping to lay the table and asking the children about their day at school.

It was happening, albeit slowly. More frequently, Myka allowed her anger to fade into the background and let herself enjoy the Brit’s presence. She couldn’t remember seeing Helena around children, other than the sister of one of the college boys who’d died while attempting to gain entry to Warehouse 2. The memory of that time was never far from her thoughts but seeing Helena with the kids was like seeing a whole new person. Her smiles were full of love and pure enjoyment rather than mischief or dark intent; she was content with most things without itching to be anywhere else, working on any other task; she laughed with ease and could be brought to the verge of tears if one so wished to try. She didn’t attempt to make herself appear larger than life and, in a way, this made her all the more appealing.

Myka felt herself thinking more often about their intimate moments together and imagining what it would be like to have that again. She was beginning to think that it wasn’t such a bad thing to be irrevocably attracted to her heroine. If she could learn how to accept this reality and live with the past then there was hope for them. Much as she wanted that dream though, doubts continued to linger and she was already planning ways to distract herself for moments when she and Helena might end up alone. Her libido was partially responsible for her blinkered view of their relationship the first time around, and she was determined for that to be different if they started again… _when_ they started again.

She had fallen hard and fast, and no matter how much she’d tried to convince herself that her feelings had been juvenile and therefore false, she knew that loving HG Wells was not something that she could escape or explain away.

“Ma? Is that right?” Catherine asked of her finished work, her voice breaking through her mother’s reverie.

Looking down at the eleven-year-old’s scrawled handwriting, the brunette nodded. She ruffled the girl’s hair into an even more unruly mess and chuckled at the resulting grumble. “You’re nearly done, sweetheart. Just check through your spellings and make sure your work is legible. There’s nothing worse than putting in lots of effort and then finding out that your teacher can’t read it.” She smiled at the scrunched expression on the girl’s face, stood and kissed the top of Cat’s head before leaving her to it. The amused smile remained on her face as disgruntled grumbling followed her over to where Christina and Freddy sat. “Cat’s nearly finished. How are you two doing?”

At the sound of her voice, the two occupants at the table jumped and hastily closed the notebook that they’d been hunched over. They glanced guiltily at each other, had some sort of silent communication and then turned overly-innocent gazes on their mother. “Hey, Ma,” Christina greeted casually. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Green eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Cat’s nearly done. What are you two up to?” Myka asked as she adopted a less relaxed stance and folded her arms over her chest.

“I’ve finished my report on the American civil war,” Freddy answered, hoping futilely that he could distract his Ma from what she’d almost seen. At least, he hoped she’d only ‘almost seen’ what he and Tina were writing. He was never quite sure how she would react since her return from Australia and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea or make assumptions about their motives.

Myka’s eyebrow rose, telling her son in no uncertain terms that she was on to him. “And you both felt the need to hide it from me because…”

Christina took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She pulled the notebook out from beneath her brother’s arm and slipped it into her bag. Before Myka could question her actions, the young adult picked up a ring-binder and held it out across the table. “We’re planning a surprise, so you will just have to be patient. Here’s Rick’s project – if you want to read it?” There was a challenge behind dark eyes that fixed on the regent, unwavering.

Myka clicked her tongue, a smile creeping along her mouth as she rolled her eyes. She snatched the folder playfully and swatted Freddy with it. “Fine. Have your secrets. For now, make yourselves useful and go and get the things we need for dinner.” She took her folder back to Cat’s table and sank into her chair. She watched from the corner of her eye as the secretive pair put their heads briefly back together and then Christina stood to push her brother towards the apartment stairs.

“That was close,” Fredrick whispered as shelves of books passed him by. His sister’s hand appeared over his head and pulled the door open in front of him. Reaching for the handrail, he pulled himself up onto his good leg and began the tedious journey of hopping up the stairs. “I thought she might have seen our notes. Enough to guess what we’re planning,” he continued as he waited at the top of the stairs for Christina to fold, carry and unfold his wheelchair.

He hated the necessity of it. It wasn’t even a cool wheelchair that he could practise tricks with. Since he’d started back at school, his friends liked to joke that he was going to end up with one giant, muscly leg. Thankfully, his teachers had rearranged most of the classes that were upstairs to rooms on the ground floor. At school, he suddenly found himself getting lots of attention, even from people he’d never spoken to. The best part of this perk was the moment that Holly Brown had practically thrown herself at him on his first day back. He was sure that his face had been red from thinking of that moment the entire day.

“Do you think it could work?” he wondered aloud as he hobbled around the kitchen and pulled things from cupboards. “Do you think we can get them to spend time alone?”

“I don’t think Ma will be a problem, at least, not so far as getting them into the same room, but Mum knows us better; she’ll be wise to us if we don’t do it right,” Christina responded seriously.

They were getting tired of their mothers dancing around each other and after seeing the way the two women looked at each other when they thought they weren’t being watched, the twins had decided to help things along. Two well-meaning Cupids to force a reaction from the couple. Preferably not one that involved shouting and further distance; they were both very aware of how easily their ‘fix it’ plan could end in disaster.

“Maybe we should just tell her. She’d want to help,” Freddy suggested, feeling confident in his assumption.

“I’ve no doubt that she’d _want_ to, Rick, but she won’t do anything that might make her appear dishonest or scheming. She knows that that’s what Ma fears about them being together again.” The young woman paused with a salad bowl in her hand. “She’d tell us to stop or feel obligated to tell Ma what we’re planning. I’d rather not put her in that position. Would you?”

Freddy shook his head. “No, definitely not. She’s having a hard-enough time of it as it is.”

Christina nodded as she slid a head of lettuce and various other green ingredients her brother’s way. “What about Cat?” she asked after a thoughtful pause. “Do you think we should tell her?” Fredrick had related his hospital-bed conversation with their sister about everyone’s tendency to shield the pre-teen from the evils of the world and, while she didn’t want to overexpose her youngest sibling to the realities of their lives either, she understood how the girl was feeling.

“I think we should give her a chance,” the teen replied. “They’re her parents too and she’s just as worried as we are.” He nodded to himself as he continued to wonder whether it was a good idea. “We should let her in on the plan.”

“Pray tell, which plan might that be?” came a curious, cultivated voice from the doorway as their Victorian mother appeared.

Another, more lilting voice joined in almost immediately, signalling the arrival of their other mother. “See? I told you they were scheming.”

The Wells-Bering couple entered the kitchen and circled in opposite directions, their eyes unconsciously meeting with a hint of camaraderie. It was short lived as Myka recalled their situation and sank her gaze to the work surface. She took note of the salad that was half prepared and turned to the cupboard beside her to fish out a skillet for the salmon.

“Well, they got their good looks from you, they had to get something from me,” the inventor joked. “What nefarious plan do you two have up your sleeves today?”

Myka didn’t see Helena’s face when she responded but she couldn’t help the surprised smile that crept onto her face at the older regent’s words.

While her parents avoided eye contact, both regents teasing and communicating solely through words and tone, Catherine entered, slapped her books down on the table, crossed her arms over her chest and all but stamped her foot. “Are you guys planning something? You always do things without me!”

Taking pity on her sister, Christina offered the girl a cherry-tomato and winked at her. “You’re allowed in on the secret, Kitty Cat, but they’re not,” she added with a sharp gesture of her head.

Freddy chuckled as both regents adopted the same expression of surprise and offence. “So, you’ll have to wait.” He lowered his voice to a ‘whisper’ and said, “Covert tree-house meeting at 0700 tomorrow. You in?”

All frustration and annoyance forgotten, the eleven-year-old bounced on the balls of her feet and grinned. “Yeah!”

The young adult laughed at her sister’s enthusiasm and congratulated herself and Rick for deciding to include the pre-teen. “We’ll need a sentry. Do you think Spyder will be up to it?”

Still looking like the Cheshire Cat, the youngest amongst them fell into a chair and made a show of thinking it over. “I’ll have a word with him.”

As both parents chuckled, HG removed Catherine’s books to the top of the fridge and began to pull cutlery from a drawer. “I think we’ve been outnumbered,” she grumbled playfully.

“Uh-huh,” Myka responded as she turned on her son, a spatula pointed at him. “Just how are you planning to get into the treehouse?”

“Easy!” he answered nonchalantly, smugness written all over his face. “Mum’s got some pulleys and rope, which she used when she and Uncle Kevin were building the escape tunnel, and all I need is an old sheet to make a giant sling.”

“Of which we have a few,” Christina chimed in as if they’d spent hours rehearsing this very moment. “I’ll climb up tonight and get it all set up.”

Myka stared at them for a moment, trying to figure out if they were teasing her again or not. “You had all that worked out already?”

Freddy shrugged, biting back another smug grin. “No. We just thought of it.”

Cat, having watched the back and forth with a familiar sense of awe and annoyance, rolled her eyes and grumbled, “They’re _always_ doing stuff like that. It’s crap!”

“Catherine!” her mothers scolded in surround sound.

The teasing continued all through dinner with Christina smoothly changing the topic to embarrassing childhood memories. They all kept the atmosphere deliberately light, even Catherine picking up on the subtle signals from her siblings and putting on her best game face. It wasn’t entirely natural or smooth, but it was done with love and good intention, all believing that it would get easier with patience and time.

As the children left first – Christina carrying her brother’s wheelchair back downstairs, Fredrick hopping after her and Catherine following on behind, threatening all the way to jump on his back – Helena stayed behind to say Thank you and farewell to her wife.

She hovered awkwardly in the doorway for several seconds as Myka picked up a dishcloth and, with little else to occupy her suddenly nervous hands, she began to dry the plates that were stacked on the draining board.

“Thank you,” the inventor began, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as tense as she felt. “For dinner.”

Dishcloth in hand, the brunette turned slowly and smiled at the floor. “It was fun,” she admitted before her eyes drifted upwards from the Brit’s shoes to a penetrating gaze. “Is it always like that… family dinners I mean?”

Helena scoffed, “Goodness, no. They were on their best behaviour tonight. Imagine a pack of coyotes; despite my best intentions, Pete’s table manners have made a lasting impression,” she explained and smiled at the cute frown that appeared above green eyes before coughing and looking anywhere else. “I think they were trying to impress you.”

Myka’s frown relaxed and a pleased flush crept along her cheeks. “Really?”

“Yes. I know I’ve said this before, but I am thankful that you are fighting to spend so much time with them. I am thankful that they’re not being punished for my crimes.” Realising that she’d brought another layer of awkward back into the room, HG rocked on her soles, ran her hands through her hair and decided that it was past time to leave. Just as she reached the door though, she remembered something. “Oh! We are hosting a soiree two weeks past Saturday, if you would like to join us. It’s a tradition we adopted several years ago to celebrate a combination of Thanksgiving, Hanukah and Christmas.” Seeing her wife’s hesitance, she began to rattle on, letting her words tumble from her mouth without her usual careful forethought. “It’s merely an elaborate excuse to get everyone together during the holiday season, but it has proved to be rather successful. Claudia, in her everlasting wisdom, lovingly calls it Thankahmas. Artie always attends under protest and Pete, of course, never misses an occasion to worship at the altar of gluttony.”

The younger regent shuffled a little, wondering whether or not she should accept the invite. “Would I need to bring a gift?”

HG smiled softly, her eyes lingering a little too long on the brunette’s face. “Just your lovely self… You are gift enough for all of us.” With those parting words, she nodded and left to begin her descent towards the shop floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Myka's being very slow on the uptake, but she's still dealing with her memories of Helena's betrayal. From her perspective, the woman she loves recently used her and almost killed her. Feeling like that don't just disappear. Have faith, people!


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter Seven **

Gathered in Pete’s living room, the Lattimers, Myka, Helena and Christina, Thomas and Claudia sat in stunned silence as the events on the screen played out. Once the caretaker had pressed play, inside footage of various ‘church’ groups quickly stifled the friendly camaraderie in the room.

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, next to Helena, Myka had half an eye on the cultists who spouted hate-filled nonsense, and half an eye on the inventor. As the Brit’s breathing quickened and she appeared to become more agitated, Myka caught her daughter’s eye from the other side of the room and they exchanged expressions of concern. For several long seconds, she gazed down at silver-speckled raven hair and wondered whether _this_ was the thing that was going to set HG off on her next warpath.

_Why doesn’t she ask for help?_ Myka wondered bitterly and then, almost as quickly, a fiercely protective voice answered with a caustic, _why don’t you offer it!?_

Realising how right that second voice was, she swallowed her shame and tentatively placed a hand on the inventor’s shoulder. The Brit jumped at the touch and looked up in surprise, her eyes holding a wealth of emotion. Myka smiled a little and squeezed the shoulder under her hand, hoping that the gesture might bring a modicum of comfort. Helena appeared to breathe easier as she reached up for her wife’s hand and held it through the rest of the surveillance footage. They might not be functioning as a couple, but as co-parents, they were very much dedicated to protecting their family.

It was as they were nearing the end of the footage that Meghan appeared on screen herself to share her suspicions of a traitor in their midst and, as she escaped capture time and again, announced her intention to return to Denver to explain all in detail. It was clear to all of them that the undercover agent was losing hope of making it out of her mission alive, but they held onto the slim chance right to the last few seconds.

A collective gasp rose from those who had not yet seen their colleague’s final moments and identified the woman’s killer. As Jason stepped over the body, closed the door and calmly made a phone call, Claudia paused and turned to her friends.

Knowing Jason the least (as far as she could remember), Myka ventured her thoughts first. “It could be the thimble,” she suggested, wanting to be optimistic.

The caretaker shook her head sadly. “We have the thimble. No other artefacts have such a convincing effect. We have the pearl too, but we’re looking into other, similar things that might have brainwashed JJ into thinking he’s doing the right thing.”

“Hypnosis?” Pete wondered aloud. “Like, when he hears a word he thinks he’s a chicken? Or y’know, psychotic double-crossing murderer?”

“It’s possible,” Claudia agreed solemnly. “I showed Steve this footage yesterday,” she added quietly and for a moment they all thought that she might actually cry.

“How did he take it?” Myka asked softly. She became aware of the hand that loosened its grip on her own and, instead of letting go as her sceptic voice told her to, she instinctively held tighter. Her first thought, after seeing Jason’s betrayal, was of that moment in Warehouse 2 when HG had pulled a tesla on her and Pete, but instead of fuelling her anger, she was surprised to find herself wanting to reassure the Brit that she wasn’t giving up on them.

“I’ve never seen him cry like that,” Claudia croaked, prompting a moment of awkward silence.

“Where is he?” Pete asked with a little more life to his voice. “We can’t leave him on his own. He should be with family.” Looking up at his girlfriend, he communicated a desire through his eyes and she nodded firmly. “He can stay with us for as long as he needs,” he told the room.

“I’ll let him know,” the red head smiled sadly. “Stupid idiot thinks it’s his fault. That he’s put everyone in danger. He’s staying with his mom for a couple of days, but he wants to come back when we decide what we’re gonna do with Jason.”

Finally finding her voice, Helena took a steadying breath, tugged her hand gently from Myka’s grasp and tried to approach the issue from a logical standpoint, “Whether he’s aware of his transgressions or not, now that Steven knows, Jason _will_ be aware of a disquiet in their relationship. They’ve been married for a long time; he will instinctively know that something is wrong.” She hesitated a fraction of a second before adding, “I do not believe that he should be trusted from this point on. If he has acted under his own intention, he may take flight. If not, he will be confused and hurt by his husband’s abrupt departure.”

“Come on, HG. I agree in principal but give Steve a couple of days to process at least,” Pete argued.

The inventor’s eyes darkened impossibly. “I will not hang my family’s safety on anyone’s sensibilities, even if that individual is someone I care about! Steve would not thank us for deferring caution on his behalf only to result in an innocent sustaining injury.” She could feel a deep, residual anger at herself bubbling up from somewhere forgotten. _She_ had been the villain once and there were many times during her recovery that she’d wished that someone had managed to stand in her way before she could act on her plans. “Had you suspected my plans before Warehouse 2, would you have told Myka and then given her ‘a couple of days’ to process before locking me away?” she asked irritably, shocking the room into another silence. Allowing her tone to soften slightly, she added, “Jason is a member of this family and for his own protection as well as ours, I propose that we detain him until we have Steve’s cooperation and a better understanding of his involvement in Meghan’s murder.”

Beside the inventor, Myka swallowed the lump in her throat and buried a new appreciation for the Brit’s strength. “I have to agree with HG on this one, Pete. We can’t risk lives, especially not the kids’.”

“Yeah,” former agent Lattimer responded in a more subdued manner. “You’re right. Sorry, HG.” Pete slumped in his chair, feeling defeat and his own rising concerns. Freddy still had a long road of rehab ahead of him to get full use of his limbs back and every time he saw the lad, he pictured Sophie or Jake in the same state. He nodded. “Where are we gonna keep him?”

They all turned to Claudia at the same time, looking to the caretaker for a practical solution. Since they had no official standing with the government any longer and couldn’t trust the new Warehouse operatives, there were very few options left open to them. Other than one of their homes (and only the Wells-Bering residence was truly suitable to hold a prisoner), Claudia’s island headquarters was the best choice.

Calculating all of this in moments, the red head reached the same conclusion. “We can take care of him on the island,” she confirmed. “The difficulty will be in getting him there. We can’t smuggle him on a commercial flight.”

“Nor do we have the authority to transport a prisoner,” Helena added.

“The transporter!” Myka and Christina said simultaneously.

HG’s eyebrows drew together. “I have not thoroughly tested its reliability or safety,” she warned them.

“You came through unscathed,” Myka reminded the inventor. “And you’ve been playing with it for weeks now.”

“Perhaps now’s the time for a live, long distance test?” Christina pitched in hesitantly.

Helena felt her stomach clench at the thought of sending someone through her machine without being confident in its functionality. Since her conscience was much louder these days, her experiments tended to be less risky. In the days when she’d built her time machine, she hadn’t really cared about anything other than getting her little girl back. Collateral damage was irrelevant. Now, she had more to live for and she was more considerate of the safety of others. Could she bring herself to try the machine out on a friend, even if he was potentially a traitor?

“I’ll do it,” Claudia volunteered after watching the inventor’s inner struggle.

HG shook her head. “No. If anyone should be put at risk to test the validity of one of my inventions, it should be me.” She looked quickly around at all of them, her gaze lingering on Myka’s. “I will not put any of your lives in danger before my own.”

The red head smirked and crossed her arms over her chest, the first sign of humour passing her expression. “And how exactly are you getting home when you get there?” Helena scowled which only made the caretaker’s grin wider. “Face it, HG. Time is short, you’re needed here, it would take a day or two for you to make your way home, and I gots the skills to _poof_ even without your toy.” Seeing a hint of surrender in her friend’s eyes, she decided to take that doubt as a victory and head out. “Now, I’m gonna do my thang, and go break the news to Jinksy. At the very least, it should give him some piece of mind to know that JJ’s gonna be in a safe place where he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Before anyone could argue or add to the red head’s departure speech, Claudia had walked out of the room and, as no more noise could be heard, presumably disappeared. The tense atmosphere remained as gentle chatter broke out amongst the occupants of Pete and Lila’s living room, but there was a very subtle hint of relief in knowing that they had a plan and that their friend would be looked after.

“I can’t believe that Jase would kill Megs willingly,” Pete said, interrupting the whispered conversations that had broken out.

“There was no love lost between them,” Helena observed pointedly.

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head. “He loves Steve. He wouldn’t hurt him like that.”

Determined to play devil’s advocate, HG rose from her place on the couch and paced a few steps along the room. “Hate is a powerful motivator,” she observed, drawing more from her own misguided feelings than from Jason’s. As all five faces turned to watch her, she allowed her stiff posture to relax slightly. “It is always preferable to assume that a person’s wrong doings were not entirely performed out of their own intention. Especially a friend. The reality is that sometimes we choose to act selfishly, regardless of how much our actions hurt those we love.”

Christina began to feel uncomfortable with the new direction of the conversation and twitched next to her boyfriend. She knew her mother’s mistakes but it had been a long time since the inventor had been so openly distressed about them. “Mum, what are you saying?”

“We cannot afford to trust him,” HG responded, her arms falling defensively over her torso.

Myka looked on, silently observing the Brit’s agitated movements and expression. Of course Helena would see the pessimistic side of this issue; she had lived the life of the villain and felt the subsequent consequences. Remorse, regret and self-loathing were all clear in HG’s demeanour and for the first time since waking up in this new reality, Myka knew that she’d been right to put her faith in her lover, despite the fact that it had backfired on her.

“We trusted _you,_ ” Pete threw at the pacing regent, his tone hardening and reaffirming his propensity to lock horns with the Victorian.

Rather than take offence, HG’s face softened and she smiled sadly at Pete. “Precisely,” she whispered before letting her legs carry her from the room.

Christina glared at her uncle and watched him recoil. She moved to follow her mother but felt a hand on her arm before she could put the thought into action. Resentful words bubbled into her mouth and hovered on the tip of her tongue, until she turned to find her other mother beside her.

“I’ve got this, sweetheart,” Myka soothed her daughter. Christina looked so much like Helena in that moment that she knew she had to add some sort of explanation to cool the young woman’s ire, “It’s not Pete’s fault. It’s not _him_ she’s angry with.”

Tears pooled around dark eyes, making them appear glassy and the young Victorian wiped hastily at them before glancing at her uncle. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good, kid. Your Mum needs a champion sometimes,” he grinned in a lazy, lopsided manner and glanced between the two Wells-Bering women. “You take after your Ma that way.”

Myka rolled her eyes but felt secretly pleased at the comment. Leaving a reassuring squeeze on her daughter’s arm, she followed after the inventor’s footsteps, which led her through the dining room and out onto the balcony. Though a clear, blue sky hung overhead, with it being the first week of December, there was an icy nip to the air and the regent instinctively drew her arms round her body in an attempt to keep warm.

“Don’t you think you were a little hard on Pete?” she enquired lightly as she half turned to lean against the railing.

HG’s eyelids closed over a swirling pool of anguish and she hung her head. “I know,” she sighed. “He consistently manages to consider the sanguine side of life and I…” She trailed off, unsure of how to word her feelings.

“This issue hits close to home,” Myka concluded. “You don’t want us to make the same mistakes that we made with you,” she added and stared across at the sprawling rows of buildings. She spotted a rigid nod from the corner of her eye and sighed. “What if they weren’t mistakes though?”

“Three young men are dead because of me, not to mention those I terrorised and the countless I intended to murder, and…” she choked on her next thought and fell quiet.

“You hurt your friends,” the brunette acknowledged. “You hurt me.”

“Yes.”

“Yet here we are,” Myka noted simply. “A family. Stronger, closer, happier – for the most part. I may not remember the journey we made to get here, but I’m beginning to see why we made it.”

“I didn’t deserve your trust,” Helena insisted stubbornly.

“Not at first, no. I trusted you blindly and let you distract me too many times,” the younger regent agreed. A strained silence settled over them as they each considered Myka’s words and dwelled on the events of the past. “Though perhaps… perhaps having someone believe in you was exactly what you needed to make you see your actions in a different light. To make you want to change. You _have_ changed.”

That admission hung between them for a few minutes as each woman became lost in her own thoughts. The loss of Myka’s memories had dragged Helena’s buried guilt back to the surface and made her study her actions all over again. It was a weight that never really left her but her wife, their family and their friends’ support had helped her to make sense of them and put them in a healthier place. Myka’s anger made them exposed and raw again but recent conversations had demonstrated that the younger regent still retained her ability to be forgiving.

Dwelling on old memories was doing little to help HG’s state of mind, but she couldn’t ignore the cautionary tale that accompanied them. “I do hope that Jason’s actions were not of his own will. For his sake and Steve’s,” she admitted in a hushed tone. “But the fact remains: we did not see this coming and cannot account for too many of Jason’s whereabouts. We cannot confront him without showing our hand so must assume the worst and take the necessary precautions.”

“I agree,” Myka said with a sigh. “The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. One of our own with unrestrained access?” she caught a slight tightening around the inventor’s eyes but otherwise, saw just an answering nod. She thrust her hands into her pockets and studied her feet for a moment before looking back up. “I do think you should consider Claudia’s suggestion though.”

HG’s her body stiffened again. “I cannot in good conscience allow her to test my machine. What if I miscalculated and she were sucked into an oblivion? Better I test it. Even if I did not liken her to a sister, the caretaker is less expendable than I.”

“Expendable?” Myka repeated, anger creeping into her tone. Something about that word in relation to the inventor made her stomach clench with fear. _Have I done that?_ she thought desperately. _Have I made her think that she’s not wanted or needed?_ Regardless of the answers, she was annoyed with the Brit’s seemingly casual disregard for her own life. “No one is expendable!” she hissed. “What would it do to the kids to lose you? What would it do to any of us?” She deliberately didn’t say ‘what would it do to me?’ but the words were forefront in her mind.

Helena straightened in surprise at the depth of emotion in the brunette’s tone. She didn’t think that her words had warranted such a reaction. _I was simply stating a fact._ “I didn’t mean to suggest that I my life has no value,” she tried to explain. “Only that, practically speaking, there is a degree of importance between myself and Claudia – to the Warehouse and our intention to prevent Chapman from taking control, I mean,” she added hastily.

Myka flushed slightly at her over reaction but remained obstinate. “Ok, I see what you’re saying, but I disagree. I know that you’ve figured out how Chapman set the destination when he transported you. You have everything else you need. So, if you want to look at things practically… From what I’ve gathered so far, Christina has some pivotal role in whatever battle we’re hurtling towards. Losing you would only destabilise our family further. You know what grief can do to a person.” She waited to catch the inventor’s eye again before hammering the nail in the coffin, “She’s only just beginning to recover from Freddy being hurt under her watch.”

The scowl on the inventor’s face deepened. “That is an underhand tactic, Myka.”

“Yeah? Well it doesn’t make me any less right,” Myka shot back.

Unconsciously, she had moved closer to the other regent and HG had pushed herself off the rail to give the argument her full attention. As a result, the two stood toe-to-toe, neither looking likely to back down.

“I have no intention of letting this crazy ancestor engage Christina in any mission of his,” Helena insisted vehemently. “She will be fine.”

The brunette crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “You might not get a choice. What if that’s her destiny?” the argued.

Helena heard the word _destiny_ and felt an icy chill along her spine. She hated it. To her, it was a word that said ‘you cannot protect them, no matter how hard you try’. “I’m beginning to think that you are more interested in _your_ place in this historical convergence than you are in our children’s well-being!” she vented. Immediately, she wanted to take the words back, but by the expression on her wife’s face, it was too late.

Myka’s glare blazed with green fire. “How dare you! You know me better than that.” She noted a tightening around the inventor’s eyes again, indicative of pain and remorse, but HG’s jaw remained stubbornly clenched. She was hit by a strong urge to pull the Brit closer and kiss her but brushed the conflicting feeling aside. She would study it later, in private. “Is that how you like to resolve disagreements, by throwing insults around? Two can easily play at that game, Helena. Do you really wanna go there?”

The quiet fury in her wife’s tone brought Helena sharply out of her angered state. _Fear begets anger_ , she reminded herself and began to isolate the things that most terrified her.  She felt all of the fight abandon her voice and broke eye contact as she stared into the distance. “I’m just trying to do the right thing,” she whispered.

Myka released a long breath full of tension and adrenaline. “I know. There are no good answers for this. Maybe it would help if we put it to a vote?” she suggested softly. “We should all share in the responsibility of this project.”

HG considered the proposal carefully. She felt a slight loosening in the knots that filled her stomach. “That is an acceptable compromise,” she allowed eventually.

A small smile crept onto the younger regent’s features. “And just to prove that I’m reasonable: since it’s your invention and you can’t help but feel more responsible that the rest of us, your vote should count for two.”

“Thank you,” Helena answered with a small nod. She allowed her gaze to drift back to the concrete-smeared horizon and gripped the railing. The heated confrontation with her wife had sparked more than just negative feelings. Her body was used to releasing that build-up of tension in a particular way and it thrummed to life with the promise of attention from the woman she loved.

Thrusting tingling hands safely into her pockets, Myka studied the Brit’s profile and tried to account for the need to close the distance between her and her ex-lover. Wanting to rekindle and encourage that flame was a stupid thing to want after everything that Helena had done to her, but she could no longer deny that the desire to do so was an integral part of her. _You said it yourself,_ she thought, _she’s changed._

Before her more impulsive side could take the reins, she remembered the people waiting inside and took a step towards the door. “We should head back inside.”

HG released the breath she’d been holding. For a moment, she thought that she’d felt an undercurrent of _something_ between the two of them, but then it was gone. “Yes, we’ve delayed long enough,” she responded and turned to face the curly-haired regent. A small smile played at the corner of Myka’s mouth and she returned it tentatively.

It was a start.

* * * * *

With the reality of Myka’s memory loss and Jason’s double cross hanging over their heads, Thankahmas was a considerably more subdued affair than usual. The adults spread themselves between dining, kitchen and living rooms while the teens and pre-teens monopolised the first floor and attic – with the proviso that all doors were to remain open. The usual crowd consisted of everyone but Myka’s parents (who found large crowds beyond their ability to enjoy these days) and all but Jason and Steve were in attendance.

The vote to decide on who would test the transporter had turned heavily in Claudia’s favour and two days after the meeting at Pete’s, the caretaker escorted Steve and a grief-stricken Jason back to her island headquarters.

He’d protested when they’d detained him at the Wells-Bering house and laid their accusations before him, but after listening to and then seeing the evidence, he’d given himself willingly to their care and with tears in his eyes, answered as many of their questions as he was able. The scene had been difficult for them all to deal with.

_“We’re gonna figure it out, JJ,” Pete tried to reassure their friend as Helena and Claudia gave the transporter one final check. “Whoever whammied you is gonna wish they hadn’t messed with us.”_

_Jason gave a wan smile, his gaze flicking constantly between Pete and the man who was conversing in hushed tones with Myka across the room. Steve had barely been able to hold his gaze since Meghan’s death and he missed his husband fiercely. He blinked the ever-gathering wetness from his eyes. “How can I begin to make this right?” he whispered hoarsely._

_“Hey,” the older man said as he placed a comforting hand on his friend’s arm. “Myka’s got insight into things like this. You’ve seen her and HG, right? Have faith, man. Jinksy loves you.”_

Losing three of their rank so suddenly was a shock for all of them, but they had learned to pull together during difficult times and held hope that they could have at least two of them back… eventually. For now, they had to be thankful for the few celebrations that they could have.

Helena was sipping a glass of wine in quiet contemplation when the doorbell rang for the last time that evening and she stood to answer the summons. From the other side of the room, watching from the corner of her eye, Myka sensed déjà vu teasing her thoughts as she watched a tipsy melancholy grow from dark depths. Though the intangible wisps of memory were down right annoying, they at least gave her some confidence regarding the future into which she’d been thrust.

“I thought everyone was already here,” Myka puzzled aloud, drawing her redheaded companion’s attention.

Claudia shrugged, trying to appear quirky and casual – a state that eluded her more and more each day. “I think CJ mentioned something about Adelaide trying to make the trip this year,” she answered eventually.

The regent’s mind immediately wondered who ‘Adelaide’ was, but the obvious distress on her friend’s face brought a different question to the tip of her tongue. “Claude, what do you need me to do? You look like you need a weekend retreat, or a month’s hibernation. At least a relaxing bath and a strong drink?”

“Do I get all of the above if I break down and become catatonic? Or will that just get me a straight-jacket? I think the asylum has my measurements,” she added with a short-lived attempt at humour.

Myka reached for the caretaker’s hand. “Do you want to be here? They’d all understand if this was too much. We could disappear and go somewhere to talk?”

“But I love Thankahmas!” Claudia complained under her breath. Her face fell as she glanced around the room at the family that surrounded them. For the longest time, she had been alone while surrounded by people. She didn’t think she’d ever have to feel that way again, but here she was, feeling like a stranger in a crowd. Only this was worse because this crowd was full of people she loved.

“It’s hard to love something when you’re not feelin’ the love,” the brunette responded wryly, earning herself an almost amused eye-roll. It wasn’t something that she said without conviction though; she only had to think about Helena and the proof was there. “These guys aren’t going anywhere for a while.”

“Eh, I suppose you’re right. You proposing to be my agony aunt?” she wondered with a mix of quizzical and hopeful in her expression.

Myka smiled and drained her glass. “Yeah, I am. Come on. Get your coat.”

“We goin’ for a walk?” the caretaker wondered as she followed suit.

“Nope. The tree house,” the regent answered bluntly. They walked through the hallway just in time to hear the excited squeals of two young women and paused in mid-step. Myka raised an eyebrow at her friend as she caught an unreadable expression on HG’s face. _Why does she look so happy? Who is that woman?_

Claudia placed a hand on the small of the brunette’s back and guided her in the direction of the kitchen instead of the back door. At another puzzled look from the regent, she shrugged. “For some reason, the tree-house is lacking in alcoholic beverages.”

“That’s so unlike my under-aged children to forget to stock up,” Myka replied, making sure to coat her words in sarcasm.

“I know!” Red hair shook with the head it was attached to. “And I thought I’d taught them so well.”

Myka watched a temporary return of the mischief that she knew and loved so well and hesitated. “You’d better be joking,” she threatened lightly.

“Pfft. Of course,” Claudia responded quickly, her feet already carrying her out of the door as she added under her breath, “Mostly.”

The regent forgot all about helping as she chased after her friend. “What was that? Claude?” She stepped out into the cold, early winter evening, hot on the caretaker’s heels. “Claudia!”

“What?” Seeing the predictable expression of concern and annoyance in the regent’s face, she sighed and chuckled for the first time in days. She rolled her eyes playfully. “No, I’ve never supplied your angels with alcohol. I just like to push your buttons. You know I love those kids. We all do.”

Myka gaged the seriousness of the techie’s words before finding interest in her feet. “Yeah… Sorry, I just…”

“Get protective. I know Mama-Ber,” Claudia told her friend warmly. “What’d’ya say we get this party started?” she added and waved her bottle of whisky half-heartedly in the air.

The taller of the two nodded and between them, they managed to scale the ladder with bottle and glasses in hand. Though the tree house was insulated and there was a definite improvement to the temperature inside, there was no fire or central heating to warm up the space so they each pulled out two blankets before making themselves comfortable on the beanbags. Claudia grabbed the first glass and poured herself two fingers before doing the same for her companion.

“This is my favourite time of year, y’know?” Claudia began as she took a generous sip of her drink. “I kinda invented Thankahmas after all.”

Myka took a more reserved sip of her own whiskey as she watched her friend closely. “Why? What made you think of it?”

“Well, when we were still in South Dakota, there were less of us and we were still at Warehouse 13, so it was easier to get everyone together,” the redhead explained, a wistful smile shining behind her eyes. “When HG was given the go-ahead by the regents to take CJ wherever she wanted, she and you decided to move in together. For those first couple of years, the only munchkins we had were Freddy, Sophie and Daniel, and they didn’t need much space.”

“So, after the Warehouse moved, we came to Boulder?”

“And I became caretaker.”

It was said in such a way that the regent couldn’t make out how the redhead felt about the promotion.  She bit her lip before asking, “Do you regret it, taking the position?”

Claudia’s face scrunched in thought before relaxing. “No, not really,” she sighed. “It’s hard to explain but I don’t really get a chance not to like it. I have this second voice in my head that gets a kick out of all the good we do and since I’m kinda at the head of that now, it’s a rush. I just wish…” She brought her glass to her lips and savoured the flavour for a moment. “I wish I didn’t have to send people off to their deaths.”

Nodding, Myka pushed a finger around the rim of her glass and thought back to the times that she’d had similar responsibilities. She thought about the conversation she’d had with Helena and the point of contention they’d reached with the question of Christina’s destiny. “Probably the worst part of leadership is having to make choices that might get people injured or killed. I assume you’re thinking about Meghan?”

“Yeah,” came the subdued reply before the caretaker knocked back the rest of her drink. “She wanted it. Begged me to let her off the island and back into the lion’s den. I knew it was gonna end badly, but she’d’ve been miserable if I’d made her stay.”

“Quality of life counts for a lot, Claude. Better a short, happy life than a long, miserable one.”

“Yeah, I know.” Claudia twisted the lid off the bottle of whiskey and poured herself another measure, stopping at only a finger this time. She waved the bottle at her friend, who declined with a shake of her head. “Good call. Not a genius idea to get drunk in a tree-house.” She re-capped the bottle and sat back in her beanbag, cradling the tumbler in her hand and watching the liquid dance in the glass for a moment. “You know what I’m more upset about?” she asked after a moment of companionable silence.

“What?”

“Steve and Jason,” the redhead replied, a touch of menace building behind her voice. “They messed with you and HG and now they’re messing with another happily married couple. They’re trying to break us down from the inside and it pisses me off!”

_…another happily married couple,_ Myka repeated in her head. She felt a jolt of something painful fill her stomach for a moment, and then it was gone. The memory of it lingered though and she wondered for a moment where her ‘wife’ was. “Then we’ll just have to show _them_ that we’re stronger than anything they can throw at us,” she insisted.

A quirk of a lip pulled up into a smile, which stretched gradually into an all-out grin as Claudia absorbed her friend’s statement. “Damn it; you’re right! We are gonna find whatever whammied you and Jase. But regardless, we’re stronger than the sum of our parts. Jinksy is gonna find a way to get JJ back, and you and HG are gonna be at it like rabbits again before we know it!”

Myka flushed at the implications of that last statement and watched as her friend’s whole demeanour rapidly change from melancholy to energised. “I’m not sure that Helena and I are quite there yet,” she cautioned.

“Do you think she’s hot?” the redhead challenged.

Squirming in her seat, Myka turned a new shade of pink. “That’s not the issue.”

“It’s a start,” Claudia winked before throwing back the last of her drink. “Do you still think you’re in some sort of dream land?” she asked in a more conversational tone.

The curly-haired brunette considered the question, thinking back to the days following her awakening in Australia to an entirely new reality. “No,” she decided eventually. “If I’m honest with myself, I gave up on that theory a while ago.”

“When you met the kids?”

Chuckling, Myka glanced down at the woodgrain beneath her feet and pictured her children. “How could I not?” she asked herself. Her thoughts quickly turned to their other mother though and her expression sobered. “I’m scared, Claude,” she muttered mostly to herself.

“I know, Myka.” Claudia set down her glass and weaved her fingers together in her lap as she levelled a knowing look at her friend. “She clonked you on the head, made you feel like the centre of the universe and then knocked you down. You’re starting again after all that, only this time, there’s not just you to consider.” She smiled at the startled expression before her. “That about sum it up?”

“You know me too well,” the regent declared with a sigh.

“A little birdie mighta told me that you watched some home movies with the great Victorian inventor in them.” She winked. “The family kind, not the naughty kind. That right?”

“Maybe,” Myka hedged.

“It paints a pretty picture, doesn’t it?” the caretaker nodded to herself. “It’s a lot to lose if things go south again.”

“You’ve turned into Abigail,” the regent accused, having met the pretty psychologist one or two times since her return to Colorado.

“Nah, she’s not as direct as me. She talks in circles until you find your own answers. I’m just gonna tell you to watch some more movies,” Claudia explained like her suggestion was obvious and easy. “Start with the earlier ones when it was just the three of you in South Dakota and you and HG were starting to figure each other out again. And don’t skip the wedding stuff!”

Myka’s features had hardened and she almost glared at her forward friend. “Is there a reason you want me to torture myself? We might very well never have that life again.”

The redhead leant forward, opened her mouth to speak and then paused abruptly as if to listen to something in the air. “Shit, duty calls,” she said and struggled from her beanbag.

“What!?” the older woman cried in a kind of panic. “You’re just gonna up and leave after that?”

“I’m comin’ back!” the caretaker replied defensively. “Look, Mykes,” she began in a softer tone. “After Egypt, you and HG were apart for almost a year while she was detained, and then while she was off trying to find the pieces of herself again. Even once you were officially together, it took time for you both to build a relationship. These things always take time, no matter who you are.” She inched towards the ladder hatch and lowered herself into the hole as she continued to talk. “I just want you to know that you’re doing fine. Don’t be afraid to take a chance on her, but don’t expect everything to happen over night either. Ok?”

“We came up here to talk about you,” Myka reminded her friend apologetically.

“We did,” Claudia’s head replied. “And I’m good. Or I will be. I gotta run, but I’ll see you back in the house later!” she added before the last of her disappeared from view and then the distinctive chime of her departure filled the air.

Myka sighed to herself as she slumped back into her seat and tipped her glass to her mouth. She knew that she was being irrational by avoiding the issue of her and Helena, but Claudia had hit the nail on the head when she said that there was a lot to lose. She’d seen the expectant expressions on her children’s faces whenever she and the inventor spent any time near each other and loathed the disappointment that their interaction inevitably left with the youngsters. She had a distinct impression that the three of them had manufactured the last few incidents where she and Helena were left along for a prolonged period of time, and while she appreciated their efforts, it felt too forced and she panicked every time.

What if she never managed to trust the Brit again? What if that was a side-effect of the artefact that she’d come into contact with? How was she supposed to carry that guilt?

Those kinds of worries lingered constantly in the back of her mind whenever she tried to consider life with HG again, but she knew deep down that living her life that way was going to be no better than another failed attempt at a relationship.

As she folded and tidied the blankets away and grabbed the bottle of whiskey to take back to the house, she thought about Claudia’s suggestion. By the time she was back indoors and stood side by side with her daughter and the stranger who’d arrived late, she’d decided that she would be brave and then made a mental note to ask her sister for some more movies.

Myka held her hand out automatically as Christina introduced her friend Adelaide and between them they started to pour over pictures featuring a chubby toddler called Darwin and occasionally an older man called Nate. Though she tried to focus her attention on the child, her gaze seemed caught by grey hair and a square jaw and she felt her muscles tense. When she could no longer ignore the feeling, she turned to the chatty pair and asked, “Who’s Nate?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think HG's got some 'splaining to do! Also, though I don't usually dislike characters for no other reason than they're in the way of a couple that seriously belong together, I hate Nate! Could HG have found anyone less suited to her. Even Artie had more chemistry with her!
> 
> Ok, enough Nate bashing, I seriously need to find my muse 'cuz she is being rather elusive at the moment. Sigh.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters keep getting longer - no wonder it's taking me forever to edit them!  
> Keep the reviews coming, guys. I'm struggling to find my mojo at the moment and your kind words are the only thing keeping me motivated.

_"Who’s Nate?”_

Christina froze at her mother’s words and exchanged a panicked look with her friend. She should have expected that question, should have prepared for it, but she’d assumed that her Mama wouldn’t be interested enough to ask. Seeing the pinched expression on the regent’s face though, she realised that the absence of memory had apparently not automatically erased all associated feelings. “He’s Adelaide’s father,” she answered as casually as she could manage.

Myka frowned. “Oh,” she responded with confusion. _Just Adelaide’s father,_ she told herself as she chewed over the uncomfortable tightness in her stomach. “So, you two met at school?” she wondered aloud, letting her natural inquisitiveness take over. She noticed the look that passed between the young women this time and knew instinctively that there was more to this story than they were letting on. Seeing that neither of them appeared prepared to elaborate though, she was about to let it go, but then a new voice joined the conversation and she felt an entirely different tightness pull at her insides.

“Nate and I met while I was living in Wisconsin,” HG began as she appeared behind her wife. “Mrs Fredrick instructed me to take an artefact away from the Warehouse and I found a position in a forensic lab at a precinct in Boone,” she explained in a matter of fact manner before turning to her daughter and Adelaide. “Girls, I believe Leena and Pete are waiting on you to start a game of Articulate. Do you want to go and grab yourselves a drink first?” As the two women made a hasty exit, she turned back to the other regent. She’d known that this conversation was going to happen eventually and had mentally prepared herself to rip it off like a Band-Aid. Seeing the hard accusation building in green eyes gave her pause though and she decided that a softer approach was needed. “It’s quieter in the study,” she noted as she turned to leave the high-traffic area behind.

Myka hesitated only a moment before taking a deep breath and following. _Don’t be afraid to take a chance,_ she reminded herself of Claudia’s words as she entered the study and closed the door behind her.

* * * * *

“Damn, I’m sorry, Chrissi,” Adelaide whispered to her friend as she watched the Wells-Bering couple disappear behind a closed door. “I didn’t think that Myka would ask about my dad. I thought she lost her memories of us?” Though she and her BFF didn’t get chance to spend as much time together anymore, they spoke often and Christina hadn’t hesitated to explain all that had happened with her brother and parents.

“She did,” the young Victorian agreed readily, “but since we don’t know what the artefact that affected her does, we can’t really predict how she’s going to react to various stimuli. I think, since she has an eidetic memory, seeing or hearing about your dad usually makes her relive the moment that she met him.” She cringed, having heard her Mama explain how she’d felt in tracking her Mum down and finding the inventor living a whole new life. “I guess that the feelings are still there even if the memory is gone.”

“Damn, sorry,” the young mother repeated. “Will they be ok?”

Christina shrugged sadly. “Things have been better lately. Ma is spending more time here and letting Mum stay for longer at the shop, but I don’t know if their relationship will ever be the same.” She led her friend into the kitchen and found cups for them both. “Soft drink or something stronger?”

Adelaide opted for a beer, since she didn’t have to worry about her son’s feeding schedule for the next twenty-four hours, and the two friends made their way to what used to be the games room.

It was no longer full of kids’ toys and served as a communal area for the teens and adults alike. For big gatherings such as Thankahmas, Helena or Myka would open up the large French doors into the living room, creating a wide, open area for everyone to mingle, and at the centre of it all was the games table where prospective champions lined up to have a crack at winning the privilege of taking the trophy home for a year. On top of the mantle, in pride of place, sat a stuffed, plush turkey, wearing a Santa suit and a dreidel-shaped hat.

Since Vanessa always insisted that there be a couples’ round (mostly so that she could force her husband to play), all of the adults had somehow taken over the tradition and created the ‘super-league’ of board games for them and a ‘little-league’ for everyone under eighteen. At this stage in the day, they were in the semi-finals with Pete and Lila facing off against Leena and Abigail at Pictionary.

* * * * *

Feeling the tension in the air as the door clicked shut behind her, Myka automatically crossed her arms over her chest and remained standing as the inventor took a seat on the small sofa. She’d not had much reason to set foot in this room beyond the few tours that Catherine had insisted they take together. The eleven-year-old had a penchant for telling stories of their family’s exploits and liked to wander as she spun her tales.

“Do you want to sit?” Helena asked cautiously, breaking the brunette from her brief reverie. She eyed the space next to her uncertainly before gesturing to one of the desk chairs.

Myka hesitated. The continued twisting in her stomach told her that she really didn’t need to know who some random guy was, but deep inside she knew that the question would never leave her. Reluctantly, she pulled an office chair close and sank into its surprisingly comfy leather. “You were involved with Nate, weren’t you?”

Helena’s eyes widened in surprise before she realised that the question was an obvious one to ask. She nodded with a sigh. “I met him at a cooking class.”

“And you hit it off?” Myka assumed, picturing the brash, flirty inventor she’d met in London. Stabbing into her thoughts came an image of Helena flirting with a chisel-jawed stranger. That it occurred less than a year after she and HG had shared many magical evenings beneath the sheets, and not so long after the events in Egypt, made her jaw clench with renewed anger. “How fortunate for you,” she added stiffly.

“I learnt that he was a widower and that he had a young daughter who was about eight years old,” HG elaborated calmly, ignoring the irate tone as she waited for the spark of understanding behind her wife’s eyes. She smiled sadly when it appeared. “Rather than see the obvious, I deluded myself into thinking that it was meant to be. I wanted nothing more to do with the Warehouse, curiosities or anything that could tempt me toward the supernatural. A ready-made, normal family seemed like the best choice for a recovering megalomaniac.”

The American’s eyebrow rose at the label and the explanation. It made sense for the most part, but they both knew that the Victorian was missing out the key point. “Adelaide reminded you of Christina.”

A low nod came from the inventor before she sank her head into her hands and pulled fingers through her hair. “I wasn’t prepared to admit that at the time, but you were quick to reach the same conclusion back then too. I’ve spent many hours since in conversation with Abigail – alone, with you and even once with Christina and Adelaide. Nate was never more than a distraction from a person I no longer wanted to be, but Adelaide was the beginning of a road to recovery.”

“And she became friends with our daughter?”

Helena took note of the possessive pronoun but didn’t linger on it. “They were inseparable from the moment they met,” she smiled. “Christina is God Mother to Adelaide’s son, Darwin. Though the title is more symbolic than conforming to a religious conviction.”

Myka felt her jaw loosening and a smile crept onto her face. She thought about her daughter and the young, happy woman she’d just met. Helena had been a mother to them both and that fact was worth more than any amount of jealousy or anger she might feel for the inventor’s insignificant ex-lover. Curiosity on the subject didn’t leave her entirely though. “How did it end?”

Dark depths locked onto green with all the intensity of one trying to divulge a secret through telepathy. “You invaded my peaceful little delusion and turned it on its head,” she sighed loudly. “You tore through every excuse I had and left me in tatters. Even had Nate not been made aware of my true identity, I could not have ignored the impact your brief presence made on my life in Wisconsin. Delusions only have power when you believe in them and I no longer did. I made my way to Rapid City, closer to the Warehouse than I was comfortable with, but closer to you and in a better position to mourn and heal the way I should have allowed myself to do long before that point.”

“And then I found Christina?” the brunette managed to ask after swallowing the lump of emotion that found its way into her throat.

“I had been trying to find the courage to visit the bed and breakfast for some weeks when Claudia turned up on my doorstep to inform me that you were missing. I could not conceive of a world where you too were lost to it and so I vowed to do everything in my power to bring you back.” At her wife’s hard, questioning look, she smiled and hastened to clarify, “Within reason; at the risk of my own life but not at the risk of others’.”

Myka’s eyebrows pulled together. “This is becoming a theme,” she commented. “Do we need to have another talk about expendability?”

Helena chuckled at the unexpected link. “No, dear,” she said without thinking and immediately flushed. This conversation was progressing better than she could have hoped and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin it. “That was a long time ago. I would still give my life for yours, or the children – you cannot fault me for that, but I would not be so quick to jump to that decision now. I have far too much to live for,” she concluded and responded to the brunette’s nod with a smile.

Ignoring the fluttering that filled her at the sight of HG’s gentle smile, the younger regent pushed on with her questions. Now that they were on the topic of their reunion, she found that she was desperate to hear the story from the horse’s mouth. She just hoped that the depth of her need was not too evident on her face. “So, after you found me…?”

“You were trapped inside an artefact along with roughly two dozen other civilians. Thomas being one of them,” she added as an afterthought.

“Thomas? Christina’s Thomas?”

“The same,” HG confirmed. “Unbeknownst to me, when I used my time machine to attempt to save Christina, the artefact pulled something… her essence… into it. The interference between the two artefacts caused it to malfunction and it lost its nomadic ability.”

“So, it held people in stasis?” Myka abruptly hated herself for not having asked about her daughter’s rescue before. _How could I have been so remis?_ “She was trapped there like you were in bronze?”

“No,” Helena reassured the suddenly worried mother. “She had no memory from one day to the next. Thomas recalls the years that they were friends – he grew while she remained the same, which was what tipped you off to her being the key to your escape.”

“She wasn’t affected by her time there?” Myka asked and felt relief fill her at the inventor’s nod. Tears prickled abruptly at her eyes and she rose from her chair so she could turn to gaze out of the window.

Helena itched to offer comfort but had no idea if it would be well received so she simply waited and gave the brunette some space. She watched Myka’s eyes travel over the photos on the walls and tried to guess what her companion was thinking. The subject of old flames seemed to be at an end but something else was brewing and she had no way of knowing how to help until her fellow regent decided to share.

As her arms wrapped around her torso and she studied the faces of her family, Myka breathed slowly and tried to calm herself down. “Sorry,” she muttered after a few minutes of quiet. “I probably shouldn’t have had that drink with Claudia,” she huffed and wiped furiously at her eyes. “I’ve forgotten so much,” she whispered as she turned back to the inventor. “I probably should feel worse about this guy, Nate, right?”

“You were rather perturbed with his presence whenever we were required to meet with him,” HG confirmed.

Myka huffed another humourless laugh. “Yeah, I can imagine that. I guess it wasn’t much fun seeing the woman I loved shacked up with a guy just a few months after she tried to kill me.” The words fell from her lips without censor, causing the inventor to wince sharply. They felt justified in her head, but the moment she saw Helena’s face, she regretted giving them shape. “I…” she began but her apology was waved off.

“Don’t apologise for being honest,” HG advised as she buried the sting of her wife’s words. “Some thoughts are better exorcised by voicing them. We have each taken our turns at making poor decisions that caused the other pain. My past relationship with Nate hurts you and I regret that. I do not regret the time spent with Adelaide or the time it gave me to develop a healthier view of the world. No lesson is learned without a price, I would just rather you had not had to pay it.”

With her emotions in turmoil and a need to lash out at someone, Myka decided that this was a good time to end the conversation and with a mumbled ‘Thank you’, she made a hasty escape. Had it been less than an hour since she’d been talking to Claudia about her attraction to the Brit and the possibility of rekindling a more intimate bond with the woman? How could she take a leap like that when dark thoughts still invaded her mind without warning? One minute she’d been solely focussed on needing to know her daughter’s potential hardships, and the next she’d jumped right back into jealousy over a man she’d never met. It was the idea of Nate and the knowledge that Helena had lived with him so soon after being released from the Warehouse that caught her attention. Her little green monster had been sniffing the air, waiting for an opportunity to make itself known again, and she felt powerless to stop it.

_These things always take time,_ she reminded herself of Claudia’s wisdom again and stepped into a thankfully empty kitchen. She could hear the teens and children upstairs, chatting, laughing and occasionally shrieking their enjoyment of the day’s festivities. Still able to live in the moment somewhat, they had managed to distract themselves with whatever games they’d chosen and Myka envied them for it. _Now you’re turning on the kids?_ her brain admonished her.

She heard the study door open and stiffened as footsteps approached. Panicking, she grabbed a cup and turned sharply to find the bottles of soda. In her haste, she caught one with her elbow and watched helplessly as it tumbled to the floor and rolled across the tiles straight into the inventor’s path. “Crap,” she muttered and shot HG a look that spoke of frustration and nerves.

Finding the whole scene amusing and adorable, Helena bent down and retrieved the wayward object. “Myka, you do not need to feel guilt for what you said a moment ago,” she reiterated. Calmly, she grabbed a marker pen from the notice board near the fridge and began to write along the cylindrical side in large, bold letters. “Thought’s like that have a tendency to fester if you keep them bottled up. I would rather deal with them while we’re on the subject and not be blindsided six months down the line.” She recapped the pen, put it back in its place and turned the bottle round for the brunette to read.

Unable to help herself, Myka chuckled as she read _PROPERTY OF PETE_ and watched the Brit as she slid it into the fridge door. The attempt to lighten the mood worked and she felt her muscles relax a little. “Do you think he’ll fall for that?”

Myka leant back against the counter and played with the cup in her hand while she considered the woman before her. HG was trying hard to be transparent to allow Myka to feel comfortable and free to express her thoughts without fear, but she couldn’t help but wonder how much her outbursts hurt Helena at the end of the day. She regretted her sharp words and vowed to herself to have better control.

 “One never knows. Though if karma works too quickly, it’ll end up all over our kitchen.” She appeared to consider the consequences and eventually shrugged it off with a slight movement of her shoulders. “I am not entirely devoid of mischief,” she told her companion with a small grin.

Caught unawares, a smile formed and when Myka glanced at an answering one staring shyly back at her, she ducked her head. The silence began to get uncomfortable, but for once, she didn’t want to run away. As she wracked her brain for a safe topic to open, the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs reached them and she watched Helena mouth ‘Catherine’ before their youngest burst into the room.

“There you are!” Cat yelled with excitement. “We need a pit-crew,” she told them before grabbing Myka’s hand and pulling her abruptly towards the door. “You too, Mum,” she insisted and made a bee-line to the stairs.

Helena followed dutifully, trying not to watch her wife’s posterior too closely as they alighted on the landing and then began up the stairs to the attic. In the tight space at the top, she was forced temporarily into the other regent’s personal bubble and blushed as a raised eyebrow captured her attention. “Sorry,” she mumbled uncharacteristically and stepped over the front part of the hatch to put some distance between them.

At the sound of a slight squeak, both adults turned to find their daughter grinning manically at them. Myka cleared her throat (and her mind) and glanced around to find Jake lying on his stomach, a remote controller in his hands and a slight grin on his face as he pretended to be watching the cars on the track in front of him. Next to him, copying the twelve-year-old move for move, was the almost seven-year-old, Mikey.

“What do you need us for then?” the curly-haired brunette asked as she lowered herself towards the cushions opposite the boys.

“No, Mama!” Catherine cried abruptly, stopping the regent in her tracks. “That’s my seat.” She pointed to a small bench that doubled as a storage locker. “You and Mum have to sit there.”

Both women eyed the bench, assessed its size and came to the same conclusions – it was going to be a tight squeeze.

“I can find space on the floor,” Helena offered magnanimously.

A mixture of relief and disappointment hit the younger regent and she shook her head. “No matter how much Pilates or yoga you do, I’m sure sitting on the floor isn’t going to do you any good, old lady,” Myka answered and smirked at the responding glare. “Come on,” she added, making her way over to the bench. “I’m sure I can manage not to squash you.”

HG followed, her thoughts and feelings in conflict as she anticipated the close proximity she was about to experience with her wife. She caught a glimpse of an interesting expression on her daughter’s face too, but it was gone before she could begin to analyse it. “Righty ho,” she said with faux reluctance. She decided that if she was being given a chance to spend extra time with Myka, then she was damned well going to make the most of it. “Just make sure that you keep your hands to yourself; I’m a married woman, you know,” she teased and sat next to the blushing brunette, bringing their bodies flush along one side.

The following forty-seven minutes were sweet torture as the regents were required to work against each other to aid their respective competing drivers by keeping their cars on the track. Every time one of the tiny vehicles hit a corner too fast and went tumbling over, one of the adults had to leap forward and scramble to affix it back to the metal strip that gave it motion. While HG could not help explaining the mechanics and physics behind the toy, Myka found hereto-undiscovered enjoyment in attempting to sabotage the inventor’s every move, resulting in several occasions where the couple narrowly avoided tumbling off their undersized seat.

“Mum, knock her over – I want to win!” Catherine complained as she watched Jake’s car go whizzing past as hers lay in a ditch waiting to be retrieved by the Brit, who was having difficulty reaching due to the arms that kept batting hers away.

Opposite the eleven-year-old, the other pre-teen laughed with unbridled joy. “Keep it up, Aunt Myka, this is great!”

Helena pushed half-heartedly back at the brunette, but her motivation for helping her daughter to win was struggling against her motivation to keep facilitating Myka’s excuses to touch her. Teaching her daughter a life lesson about the balance of success and failure was a very valid reason to give into her own weaknesses, wasn’t it? As a hand brushed across her stomach, dangerously close to sensitive parts, a shiver thrummed along every nerve ending in her body and dragged a keening sound from her throat. With her nose so close to the floor, she faked a sneeze and a cough, hoping to cover her body’s involuntary reaction. When she managed to regain her seat and came face to face with the other regent, she swore that there was a definite hint of redness to the brunette’s skin. Her fingers curled around the lip on which she was precariously perched, holding her in stasis.

Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second before a yell of triumph jolted them out of the moment and HG lost her grip on the bench. The last thing she saw before the room toppled was a twinkling green light that brought a goofy grin to her face.

A series of giggles erupted from the children. “Mum?”

“I am perfectly fine!” Helena assured them from the floor, instigating another bout of giggles.

* * * * *

“Your great-grandparents are hilarious!” Adelaide told her friend as they finished their turn at the games table and sank back into the sofa with new drinks.

Christina chuckled and watched the older Victorians closely for a moment or two as they settled into a game and their teamwork begged questions of telepathy from other players. “They have certainly adapted well to the modern world. My grandparents would have been like fish out of water. I’m tempted to say that it’s something that skips generations, but that wouldn’t bode very well for me.” They shared an amused look as she sipped her wine. After watching the older regents for a moment and taking in their obvious joy, she let her mind wander a bit. “I do sometimes still wish that my Uncle Charles could be here. You’d have liked him; he’d have driven Mum up the wall.”

As the party was in full swing, most of the guests had chosen to hang out in what used to be the toy room to watch the progress of the tournament. Usually, the young Victorian liked to do the same – sticking close to her boyfriend for the night while they got steadily squiffy and enjoyed the entertainment inherent in the friendly competition. With Adelaide managing the trip this year, Thomas had happily given her space to spend with her best friend and was splitting his time between the adults and the older teens.

Since they had the living room to themselves for the time being, Christina decided that now was a good moment to catch up on her companion’s news and share something that she’d been bursting to get off her own chest for a couple of weeks now.

“Anything that makes Helena all prickly and proper gets my thumbs up,” Adelaide laughed in conspiracy with her friend. “Remember how funny it was when we had sleepovers and we made bets on how many times we could get her to come and tell us to be quiet and go to sleep before she’d actually get mad? Man, I feel like we should get awards for bravery for that.”

“Lord, I dare not tell her that,” the young Brit replied. “I wouldn’t put it passed her to try and ground us.”

“Yeah, good times. I can only hope that Darwin doesn’t have a sadistic streak in him like that,” Adelaide commented through her tears of laughter.

“Kismet,” Christina threw back with a smirk.

Adelaide scowled. “Like I said about the toys, you’ll get yours when you and Tommy add to the Wells-Bering brood.”

“That’s not going to happen any time soon,” the young agent said as her expression became serious. “With destiny knocking with a battering ram on my door, kids are way out of reach.”

“You’re gonna put your life on hold ‘til this… whatever, happens?”

“My parents didn’t really have much of a choice – Rick and I were a happy accident, and by then, adding a third kid was probably a no-brainer,” Christina answered succinctly. “Tommy and I have a choice, and I’m not prepared to be unprepared, if you know what I mean.”

Adelaide frowned, “I’m not sure I do. ‘Not prepared to be unprepared’?”

“I need to be prepared for whatever comes next from this psycho,” the young Wells-Bering answered with unusual odium. “I can’t afford to let unnecessary or overt responsibilities take away from my focus. I nearly got Rick killed,” she added with a pained whisper.

“You said he was taken from school,” Addy frowned in confusion. “What could you have done about that?”

“I don’t know.” All of the merriment abruptly left her body and she pushed her fingers through her hair in a gesture that was very reminiscent of her raven-haired mother. “But even if I couldn’t have prevented Hugh from taking Rick, I should have been better prepared to mount a counter attack. A rescue mission that would have reached him before… before anything bad could’ve happened.”

The blue-eyed visitor sighed in sympathy but her eyes said that she thought her friend was taking her involvement too far. “I’m pretty sure you did everything you could, Chrissy.”

Christina was having none of it, “Yes, but I could have done better if I’d been better prepared.”

“I have a feeling that this is leading to something uber-non-parent-worthy,” Adelaide commented and waited for the worst.

A nod followed; she dreaded having this conversation with her mothers. “I don’t want to disappointment them.”

Time ticked between the two friends as the tension built.

“What are you planning?”

“I’m dropping out of college.”

“Seriously!?” Adelaide whisper-shouted and immediately covered her mouth with both hands as they glanced quickly around them to check that no one was listening to their conversation. “But, aren’t you on the verge of being Doctor Wells-Bering?”

The Victorian nodded morosely. “Which will mean nothing if I have no family to share it with or if I’m dead.”

“Good point… Do you really think you’re in that much danger?”

Christina shrugged. “I have no idea. There’s no way to know for sure, but we both know that artefacts can be deadly. Whatever is at the end of this line, it’s coming whether I like it or not. I can always go back to school and get my doctorate at another time, but I can’t train to be at my best after the fact.”

“I kept up with the kenpo, y’know?” Adelaide added abruptly. The comment didn’t have quite the impact she’d hoped though and she watched dark eyes narrow angrily.

“No, absolutely not,” Christina said emphatically. “Addy, you have a son and a life away from all of this crazy mess. Don’t throw that away,” she implored.

Taken aback by the response, Adelaide was torn between anger at the idea that she was being told what to do with her life and love for the friend who wanted to protect her like a sister would. If it came to a choice between her son and her best friend though, no one could blame her for choosing her son. “Fine,” she replied unhappily. “But even if you don’t want me to be involved in whatever this Chapman guy wants, I am your best friend and I have the right to be one of your emotional lifelines. That means that you have to keep me in the loop, bitch to me when you’ve had a bad day and promise not to be reckless with your life.”

Christina rolled her eyes like the deal would be a huge chore for her and pretended to think about it. At the sight of an exaggerated scowl, she chuckled and threw her arms around Adelaide’s neck. “Of course! I just don’t want more people to be in harm’s way than have to be.”

They turned the topic to lighter things for a while, though it took some time to brighten the mood around their space on the couch. Eventually, they were all talked out and wandered back to the games to await their next turn. Before Christina could become completely absorbed in the hype around them though, she heard a summons from across the room and followed Claudia out to the kitchen.

* * * * *

Myka sat in the living room listening to a newly reappeared Claudia while she valiantly tried to banish images of Helena with her ass in the air. “I’m sorry, you want us to do what?”

“Get back in the field,” Claudia replied. She held up her hands. “Just for a day or two.”

HG’s relaxed demeanour stiffened. “Our last field mission was fraught with complications. I’m not certain that I’m prepared to leave the children so soon after Fredrick’s attack,” she said, leaving out any of the difficulties involved with losing the spouse she’d known.

The caretaker’s gaze flickered over to Myka, who met her with an unreadable expression for several seconds before the regent found interest in her nails. Claudia barely held back an eye-roll at her friend’s response, knowing that the ex-secret service agent was stubbornly avoiding her feelings. If she hadn’t genuinely thought that Steve and Pete were currently unsuitable to deal with this mission, she would have passed it over to them. As it was, she couldn’t risk letting her new agents getting their hands on this particular artefact and hoped that she could kill two birds with one stone by giving it to HG and Myka.

The younger regent glanced sideways at the inventor and considered her options. On the one hand, she too was worried about leaving their children after what had transpired just a couple of months ago, but on the other hand, she was itching to be back in action, hunting down artefacts for the Warehouse. While Helena had mostly outgrown the thrill of the chase, Myka still felt like she’d missed out on so much and she was ready to jump at the chance to be an active agent again.

“What’s the mission, Claude?” Myka asked, hoping that more details would convince HG that they could manage it. _You could always request Pete,_ her inner voice suggested belatedly, but for whatever reason, she quickly shrugged it off. “What are we looking for and where are we going?”

The redhead smirked internally at the obvious desire in the brunette’s wording and tried to smother the expression before it could fully manifest on her face. “After looking over Meghan’s research, we’ve been keeping an eye out for one or two suspected artefacts. This one,” she pulled a file from inside her jacket, laid it open on the table and pointed to the photo, “we think, is responsible for several gatherings of zealots.”

“The cults that Agent Coombs was investigating?” Helena enquired further.

“Yes,” the Claudia confirmed. “We had a ping from a bar in York, Montana. In the last couple of weeks, the wolves in that area have been acting strangely. At the same time, all of the church groups that Meghan listed have disbanded. Are the two linked? I think it would be best if we found out the answer to that, and at the same time, bagged whatever is making the canis lupus more single minded than usual.”

Claudia described how the wolves had been seen gathering at various spots near human-centred places and waiting, as if for instructions. Locals told tales of incidents when it had happened in the past, dating all the way back to the last quarter of the nineteenth century. Since it seemed too much of a coincidence that these sightings occurred shortly after significant events within the Warehouse or Helena and Myka’s lives, they all agreed that they needed to get their hands on the artefact and figure out how it worked.

“Montana isn’t too far,” the brunette noted to the inventor. “We’ll be in the same time zone, so keeping in contact with the kids won’t be as difficult.”

HG was still wary of being personally involved but one look at Myka’s barely controlled eagerness and she began to second guess herself. She was reminded of the fact that it was only after working together on things like finding Joshua’s trumpet and the jawbone that Myka had started to trust her again. If they were to build that trust once more, she would have to prove herself. What better way to do that than to work together in the field? “When would you want us to leave?”

They spent some time working out the particulars of when they would leave, how they would travel and where they would stay before they called Christina out into the garden to relay their plans. As Helena had expected, her eldest was not overly pleased but she hid it well.

Taking her time to think it over, the young woman looked between her parents and saw what the redhead had – an opportunity for the regents to spend some alone time and rebuild a relationship that wasn’t just based around their children. “How long do you expect to be gone?”

“I am willing to give this mission forty-eight hours,” Helena told them as she looked Claudia in the eye. “No longer.”

“It shouldn’t take you more than twenty-four to get to the bar and back. That’ll give you a whole day to get eyes on the artefact and bag it. Piece of pie!” the caretaker declared with a grin.

Myka chuckled. “Ok. Sounds good to me. I’m going to go and grab the whiskey glasses that we left up in the treehouse. Then I’m going to enjoy the rest of my first Thankahmas. We can work out the details for the mission tomorrow.” She bumped her fist against her daughter’s shoulder and smiled shyly at HG as she trotted across the grass to the ladder that led up to the treehouse.

Helena watched as Myka disappeared from sight. Was it just her imagination, or had the brunette’s eyes lingered on her longer than necessary for a casual glance? What would she do if Myka did openly ogle her? Had they reached a point yet where she could flirt with her distant wife? Would it help to bring them closer or push them further apart? She turned distractedly to her companions and found herself looking at identical expressions of amusement and knowing. “Is something amiss?”

“I don’t know what’s more disturbing,” Christina commented as she smirked and sat back on her bench. “Watching one of my parents blatantly checking out the other, or the fact that I’m enjoying it.”

The red head in the adjacent seat sniggered. “I gotta go with the kid here, HG. You’re making a sex-crazed cartoon wolf look like a cloistered nun with the googly-eyes you’ve got going on there.”

“What a charming visual,” Helena snarked to hide her embarrassment while her companions giggled across at each other. Normally, she flaunted her desire for her soul mate quite openly, feeling neither shame nor regret for doing so, but since she still wasn’t entirely sure that Myka returned her interest, she preferred not to be so obvious with her distractions. “She is a vision though,” she added eventually. “I hardly need to feel ashamed for being attracted to my wife.”

“Nope, that you do not,” Claudia agreed as she leant forward to add in a whisper, “and just think – you’re gonna have her all to yourself for a whole forty-eight hours.”

Rather than balk at the thought, Christina laughed aloud and levelled a teasing look at her mother. “Lots of ogling time!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need to sleep!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are excited about seeing HG and Myka back on a mission together, I hope this doesn't disappoint...

** Chapter Nine **

Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched her parents slide into a taxi cab, and forced a smile onto her face as she waved vigorously at their tense expressions. _It’s just Montana,_ she told herself again, hoping that the repetition would calm her rampant emotions. While it was nice to see her mothers sitting together and talking amicably as they set off, Cat couldn’t help wondering what might happen to them this time. What if they both forgot her this time? What if they were seriously injured or died? What if Freddy was in danger again, or Chrissy? She felt an arm across her shoulder and turned into her sister’s hug.

“What’s on your mind, Cat?” Christina asked the pre-teen gently. She marvelled at how quickly her baby sibling was growing, but knew that there was still a long way to go before the girl was mature enough to understand everything that their parents were forced to live with.

“I don’t want them to forget us,” she answered honestly.

“They won’t,” Christina answered a little too quickly. “They _probably_ won’t,” she corrected soon after. “Whatever made Mama forget before is likely far from where they’re headed.”

“You think?” Cat wondered aloud. “Why do they have to go at all?”

“There are some jobs that adults do because they want to help people,” Christina repeated verbatim from the answer her Mama had given her when _she’d_ been worried about Myka’s position with the Warehouse.

“Is that what _you_ want to do?” Cat asked her sister curiously, thinking about the young woman’s future and her own in the same thought. “Help people escape from artefacts?”

“I am not entirely sure, Sis.” Christina smiled and sighed at the same time. “Other than wanting very much to smooch with Tommy indefinitely, my future is as yet, undecided.”

“Gross!” the pre-teen exclaimed as she pushed her sister away and ran half-way up the stairs before turning back. “You really think they’re gonna be ok?”

The young woman grinned up at her sister and winked. “I think they’re going to be better than ok.”

Cat giggled through a grimace before beginning back up the stairs, calling back as she ran, “Gross, gross, gross, gross…”

* * * * *

A chuckle rose up inside Myka as the inventor scanned the departures board and finally noted the first stop of their journey. “Something up?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Helena turned a frown on her partner, eyes narrowing at the obvious amusement behind vibrant green. She was stunned for a moment by the teasing expression, feeling a pleasant tingle filling her brain as any irritation melted. “Pete’s last comment to me before leaving makes much more sense now,” she answered with a small smile of her own.

“You didn’t already know that _Helena_ was the capital of Montana?” the younger regent wondered as she repositioned her bag on her back and absently flapped her boarding pass against her leg.

“It slipped my mind,” HG replied. “Had I remembered, I would have fashioned my own list of innuendos.”

Shared humour of the moment came with half smiles, but it was awkward. They were both painfully aware that any joke that could come from playing with the shared name would be crude and overly intimate for their current situation. They agreed by mutual, silent consent to leave any inappropriate comments to Pete.

They walked through the airport with all the appearance of casual commuters but beneath the surface, thoughts and emotions flowed like rip-tides, hiding in plain sight and then pulling them under without warning. Between small-talk and going over their plans for the mission, there were lengthy moments where the world outside of their own thoughts ceased to exist and time became a meaningless concept. It wasn’t until they were flying over Wyoming, almost directly above Yellow Stone National Park, that the regents climbed out of their thoughts and acknowledged each other.

With the aisle seat and a limited view of the scenery, Helena had been sporadically watching the progress of their flight via the on screen the map. Recent years had made her a more willing believer in fate, so when the scene of her ultimate downfall appeared in the top left-hand of the map, she automatically checked her companion to see if Myka had noticed. Since the brunette didn’t actually remember being at Yellow Stone when HG had tried to start another ice-age, she wondered if her wife would even realise how significant the place was to the two of them.

The closer the plane flew, the more fidgety the inventor became, eventually drawing her partner’s attention. It didn’t take Myka long to note the fear in Helena’s eyes and make the link, and while she knew that she should probably be angrier and more fearful herself, she couldn’t help but feel compassion and concern for what the Brit must be experiencing.

“Hey, you ok?” Myka asked, her hand twitching as if it wanted to reach over and offer comfort. She looked closer at the Brit’s whole demeanour and saw a listlessness that she hadn’t noticed before. Helena was thinner than she had been in Australia, there was a slight purpling under her eyes, probably from too many nights without enough sleep, and hair that usually shone and bounced vibrantly was duller, flatter. _I did that,_ she realised with a touch of regret.

HG nodded shakily; hearing the worry in her wife’s voice went a long way to calming her nerves. “We have not yet been back there,” she said as a way of explaining her frayed state.

There was a long, uneasy pause before the younger regent found the words for what she wanted to say. “Maybe you should. Maybe _we_ should.”

“You would do that?” Helena asked in surprise. Her wife had been open to conversations about many topics, but returning to Yellow Stone had been vetoed more times than she could count.

Detecting gratitude hidden beneath the disbelief, Myka nodded firmly. “If you think it’ll help. Pete told me the basics of what happened there but I still don’t remember it.”

HG pushed her fingers through her hair, her eyes travelling over the cabin and falling on everything except her companion. Eventually, she half turned her gaze and stared past Myka, out of the window. “You forced a gun into my hand and told me to kill you,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Myka answered vaguely. She could imagine pulling a stunt like that – something self-sacrificing that put the world and the mission before her own needs. Pete had hinted at something along those lines, declaring her the saviour of billions, but he hadn’t been big on the details. On hearing the truth from Helena, she had a clearer idea of what her own state of mind must have been at the time. That action had put more faith in Helena’s feelings about _them_ than anything else. When push came to shove, she had still believed that HG loved her. “Why would you want to go back after that?” she wondered aloud.

 “Every so often, I have woken in the night having pulled the trigger. I’ve forced myself to stay awake just to watch you sleep so that I know you’re not dead. That I didn’t kill you.” Helena never wanted to know how her wife was feeling more than in this moment. If she ever had that ability again, she would not take it for granted. She paused to compose her voice and took a steadying breath. “I would like to banish the last of my demons.”

Myka couldn’t help but feel for the inventor in that moment. The Brit should probably be made to live with some sort of punishment for her crimes, but though HG had unintentionally brought about the deaths of four innocent people, had murdered two others and had intended to kill many, many more, the younger regent actually felt something akin to empathy for her partner. “Well, if we get chance in the near future, I’m not averse to making that trip with you,” she offered. She didn’t add that she hoped to find answers for herself too, but left Helena to think that it was simply an olive branch.

For the rest of the day, that remained the most personal conversation they ventured into. On landing in Helena, they breezed through customs and picked up their hire car to begin the journey to York. Myka insisted on driving and HG let her, understanding the brunette’s need to be in control. She gazed out of the window and watched as the scenery passed by. If she drew strength from the beauty and deceptive tranquillity of Montana, it was not without need.

When they arrived at the bar, a professional and symbiotic air settled over the regents and they exited the car with little more than a glance before they approached the door. For both of them, it was like slipping into a pair of comfortable shoes that had been left forgotten at the back of a wardrobe.

“Caucasian, mid-forties, balding with a compensatory beard,” Helena chatted mostly to herself as she followed her partner through the bar and scanned the customers that were in her line of sight.

“He doesn’t necessarily have to be compensating,” Myka argued with a slight frown. “He might like being bald.” Claudia had pulled video footage from a store camera of a man who gave off a hinky vibe and the first step in their investigation was to question him. As she looked around though, Myka saw no one matching the description and felt sure that they were going to have a chase on their hands.

“Most men of the nineteenth century compensated with moustaches,” HG replied knowingly, her gaze challenging.

“For what?”

“Brains mostly.”

The brunette chuckled and watched, momentarily distracted as HG’s mouth pulled up into an enchanting smile. “Focus,” she reprimanded and whacked the inventor lightly on the arm. “I’m going to question the woman behind the bar. Take a walk around and see what you can find.”

“Aye, aye,” HG saluted and took off in the direction of the women’s bathroom. In her eagerness to please, she missed the slight expression of disquiet on her partner’s face.

Myka shook off the memory of their first mission together and the naïve fascination that had enveloped her at the time. Just because she used the same phrases, did not mean that Helena was the same person with the same manipulative agenda. It was difficult to push the feeling aside though when the Brit’s charm still felt so disarming. Approaching the bar, she signalled the server and waited.

A stocky, middle-aged blonde set a bottle none too carefully on a shelf and lumbered the few paces closer. “What can I get’ya?”

Myka’s initial impression was of a much older woman than herself, who wore her years on her face and probably smoked. When she estimated the bar-tender’s age at around fifty, she abruptly remembered that _she_ was in her late forties. Sometimes that part of her situation completely eluded her. “One coffee and one tea,” she replied and watched as the woman saw to her order with a bored expression. “So, I hear you’re having trouble with wolves up here at the moment.”

“Y’eah, what of it?”

The regent shrugged. “My friend and I were wondering if you get to see them much. Is there a good spot to do a bit of sightseeing? Somewhere we might catch a glimpse?”

Pushing a coffee along the bar, the blonde took in her customer’s apparel and chewed her lip for a moment. “City folk?”

“Yes,” Myka agreed and stored the question away as something that might be important. “We heard from one of your locals that now was a good time to catch a bit of the wild before the winter hits hard.”

“One of our locals?” came the sceptical reply.

Myka saw HG returning from her walkaround and felt a subtle relief to have back-up. They had been right not to try the government-sanctioned approach but even with her tourist persona, she didn’t feel like she was getting very far. “Yeah,” she answered and bit back her frustration. “We talked at a checkout in town and he pointed us out in this direction. Maybe we should just ask him again, what was his name, Helena?”

HG caught a spark of something other than boredom in the bar-tender’s expression for a brief moment and wondered at it before brushing it off as simple amusement for her name. “Oh, lord, now you’re testing me.” She pretended to think and sipped at her tea. “Nope, it’s gone. Sorry, darling. He was about this tall,” she began as she held her hand about a foot above her head. “Balding, but with a delightfully scruffy beard – the kind that begs to be tugged,” she added with a wink. “Very rugged.”

Torn between wanting to laugh at the inventor’s performance and wanting to roll her eyes at the ease with which HG deceived others, Myka took a deep breath and remind herself of why they were there. “That’s right. I’m sure he said he was a regular here,” she suggested, taking a chance on the link between the ping at this bar and Claudia’s insistence that their suspect was involved somehow.

“Sounds like Bradley,” the blonde told them, revealing the first real piece of information that could help them. “Hey, Grant!” she called across the room to a group of men who were sat nursing beers and grumbling at an old TV set. When he didn’t immediately respond, she shoved two fingers into her mouth and released a piercing whistle that brought hands over the ears of both regents. “Grant!” she repeated now that she had everyone’s attention. “You seen Bradley about these parts lately?”

Grant eyed up the strangers with a confused frown. “He headed up to the Vigilante Campground coupla days back. Said he had business with the mountains,” he added with a gravelly chuckle that led into a hacking cough as he turned back to his beer.

“Guess you missed ‘im,” the bar-tender shrugged and moved away from them, effectively ending her part in the conversation.

“Up for a hike?” Myka asked, lowering her voice as she turned to her companion.

If Helena had known that agreeing to that suggestion would land her in the middle of nowhere in a struggle for her life against an alpha wolf and its artefact possessed human, she would most certainly have declined.

* * * * *

**The Schwarzwald, Germany**

Mathild watched with a fixed expression as her ward’s father spoke to the boy about destiny and duty. At six years old, he could hardly be expected to understand such cosmic imperatives but he stood attentively beside the man and nodded in all of the right places, bringing pride to his carer.

It pained her to be so withdrawn with him whenever others were around. She’d been the closest thing to a mother to him since he was a week old and despite her orders, she had become attached to him – like he was her own child. The more she saw of his father and the dogmatic woman who often accompanied him, the more she wished that she could take the boy far away from them.

These were dangerous thoughts to be having, she knew. Fashioning a mask of indifference had appeared to work in keeping suspicion at bay, but it wouldn’t take much to slip up and reveal too much. Her instincts told her that the boy was in danger and if she was to have any chance of saving him from his father’s clutches, she needed to keep a cool head.

* * * * *

**Montana**

After driving a couple of miles from the bar to the campground, the regents pulled on a warmer layer of clothes, strapped up their boots and packed a few essentials into their backpacks before leaving the car and venturing into the snow-capped trees. There was only one other vehicle parked near theirs and, after checking in with Claudia and confirming that the artefact was indeed near their location, they decided to take a chance that it belonged to Bradley. His tracks made for a clear trail and it was easy going for the first hour – snow made their progress slower but quieter and they took it as a positive sign.

Luckily for the pair, wildlife conservationists had made a point of tagging the odd members of wolf packs so that they could analyse movements and habits in the wild. With their friend’s hacking efforts, they managed to log into the restricted app and were confident that they were walking in the right direction.

“Have you considered what we will do if this person resists our efforts to retrieve the artefact and sets the entire pack of wolves on us?” HG grumbled as she trudged through the snow. She considered herself to be a fairly fit person, but the last couple of months of not taking care of herself so well had obviously taken its toll on her stamina. Her legs were already aching and she was beginning to realise that she really fancied a nap.

Myka glanced at her companion and raised an eyebrow. “We have teslas. If it comes to a whole pack, I have a tesla grenade. I think perhaps Grandma Wells is finally beginning to feel her years,” she teased, hoping to provoke a spirited reaction that would keep her fellow regent motivated.

Helena’s eyebrow shot up and her body straightened instantly. When she spotted a tiny smirk pulling at Myka’s mouth though, she quickly realised that she was being played. “That’s Grandma Wells-Bering, if you don’t mind,” she replied haughtily and pushed her legs to get ahead.

They managed this one-upmanship behaviour for almost a kilometre, forgetting themselves and their mission for a while as smirks became breathy chuckles and they eventually had to stop just to catch a lungful of air. Hands resting on her hips, Myka checked the location of the pack again and found that they were a hell of a lot closer than she’d anticipated. Her eyes darted to and fro while her head swivelled to peer into dense thicket.

“What is it, Lassie?” HG joked, still feeling the uplifting effects of their competitive walk.

An eyeroll was the brunette’s answer, but an uncontrollable chuckle followed quickly after. “We’re close,” she whispered, though she figured that any wolf worth its salt would have heard and/or smelt them by now. She gestured to a narrow gap through the trees and at her partner’s nod, she left the footpath and began to push gently through blanketed branches, showering occasional flurries of snow around both of them.

The tracker led them to a clearing where it became obvious that their suspect was expecting them. Stood ankle-deep in snow, arms crossed over his chest, Bradley stared blankly across at the regents. Knowing that there was no point in hiding, Myka and Helena stepped out from beneath the trees and glanced at each other in an effort to communicate their next move.

Before either regent could make any kind of decision though, their eyes were drawn to the treeline behind their target. Like something out of a horror movie, one by one, wolves began to move into the clearing, gathering protectively around the human male.

“Myka,” HG’s voice whispered through the icy air. “I hope you have that grenade handy.”

The brunette nodded and slowly reached back to a side pocket. Before her searching fingers could find what she was looking for though, all hell broke loose.

* * * * *

Half carrying Helena’s weight, Myka pushed on through the forest, knowing that their only hope was to reach the emergency cabin that Claudia had told her about over the Farnsworth.

Bradley was gone, his legs carrying him in the opposite direction while Myka was distracted trying to find her partner, and she had to assume that he knew his way around and had a base, or else he was struggling to survive like they were. She couldn’t afford to waste much effort worrying about him and simply kept a fragment of concern for the possibility of him crossing their path again.

HG’s feet caught on a root and as she stumbled, Myka lost her grip. The brunette watched helplessly as the Brit sank into yet another snow drift and lay unmoving for several seconds too long. As she bent down to help, her mind flashed back to the fight with the wolves and their master…

_She managed to find the tesla grenade at the last second and launched it towards the pack, feeling a perverse sense of accomplishment as all but the alpha wolf, one female and the man remained standing. Helena’s tesla took down the female but the alpha had already picked its target and wasn’t phased by the temporary loss of its family as it charged at Myka, fangs bared._

_Frozen momentarily, Myka braced herself for the impact while she wracked her brain for something that would help her to fend off her attacker. Before the wolf could make contact though, another body launched itself between them, impacted with the animal and sent them both rolling down a steady decline, gathering snow as they went. She blinked several times, her heart racing in her chest before she turned to find the inventor gone._

… As she pulled Helena back to her feet, she replayed the sound of scrambling and snarling and couldn’t recall ever being so scared…

_Bradley took very little effort to subdue without his backup and once the artefact was in the static bag and he snapped back into reality, she quickly realised that the air around them was deadly quiet. With her fear for her partner far outweighing her need to detain the man, she spared him a furious glare before stuffing the artefact into her backpack and taking off in search of the inventor._

… With HG upright again they were soon back to stumbling through the woods, doggedly following the manmade path in the hopes that it would lead them to the promised refuge. Claudia had told them that it wasn’t far, only half a mile from where they’d tussled with the wolves and less than half the distance of where they’d parked the car. With signs of a storm closing in, they were stuck for options.

“We’re nearly there, Helena,” she encouraged in an effort to keep them both moving. “Just a little further,” she added, hoping that she was right as a gust of wind hit them and a sudden flurry of snow danced around their heads…

_She found the inventor kneeling next to the prone body of the alpha wolf. A primal sound rose into her throat when she saw that the Brit was alive and Myka sank into the snow as her hands reached out to search for injuries._

_“I’m fine, Myka,” Helena comforted her partner softly and tried a grin that appeared more like a grimace. “I managed to hold onto my tesla and hit him before he could sink his teeth into me.” Despite her reassurance, neither regent moved and she held onto her wife’s arms for longer than necessary._

_“Are you sure? You seem a bit wobbly.”_

_“A few bumps and bruises,” HG insisted, but there was very little force behind her words. “I could really use a lie-down,” she added and almost as if the words put her thought into action, her body began to lean into the snow._

_“No!” the younger regent cried sharply. She pushed herself to her feet and began to forcefully drag the inventor with her. “We haven’t finished the mission yet, HG. On your feet!”_

_She managed to put enough of her own weight and energy into her efforts to get them both moving and once the inventor managed to find her balance, she seemed to gather the motivation to begin moving under her own steam. Myka used the opportunity to locate her Farnsworth and had a brief conversation with the caretaker before finding a heading on her GPS and setting them off towards the cabin._

… With snow falling thicker and faster, the younger regent almost cried when she dragged Helena around a curve in the path and spotted a compact building up ahead. “There it is, HG. We made it; we’re safe.”

Feeling renewed energy in a spike of adrenaline, she forced her feet harder into the ground and her shoulder firmer into the Brit’s side. Now they had found the cabin, Myka’s thoughts started to drift away from the dangers of the wilderness and towards the interior of the building.

She suddenly felt like she was trapped in a trashy, cliched romance, where the protagonists were – by way of a series of convoluted events – forced to share a confined, isolated space, thus ensuring an emotionally charged confrontation. She couldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed reading such tropes in her youth; the formula was cliched for a reason. But it was quite a different matter being thrown into the middle of it.

Her heart continued to pound from the adrenaline-filled confrontation, her body shook with icy tremors and her stomach clenched with the realisation that she and Helena were stuck together for the foreseeable future. This last thought was almost enough to ignite a bit of warmth in her core, but one look at Helena’s miserable expression and lust quickly fizzled away. Her mind took her back a couple of days to Thankahmas and the Victorian’s reluctance to leave their children for yet another adventure. Myka had been the one to jump on the opportunity and the other regent had pandered to her need. _You couldn’t just have taken a few minutes to think and talk about it?_ she chastised herself. _At the very least, you could have suggested taking Pete. What if she becomes seriously ill and you’re stuck out here in a snow-storm!?_

The refuge was little more than a tiny studio-apartment: a pull-out sofa/bed sat against one wall, an open archway led into a kitchenette – complete with folding stools and a protruding surface for eating from – and one door led into a wet room that was just a toilet, sink and shower head. Other than the sofa-bed, a tall cupboard and a chest of drawers were the only other pieces of furniture in the main room. Once the door was closed on the icy world outside, both women simply stared at their sparse sanctuary for several seconds, unmoving.

As the sound of chattering teeth brought Myka to her senses, she removed her top layer of cold, damp clothes and hung them up. She padded shakily over to the thermostat and switched the heating on, before cranking the dial around to encourage the boiler to put in its best effort. When a series of clunks and hisses gave way to a reassuring gurgling of water through pipes, she sighed and proceeded to the tall cupboard where she found several piles of towels, sheets and blankets. In the bottom drawer of the chest, she found some generic clothes: unopened packets of underwear, t-shirts, sweaters and sweat pants. Grabbing a set of each for her and the inventor, she set them side-by-side on the sofa before turning back to her companion.

Helena had barely moved, it seemed. She was obviously trying to follow Myka’s example, but her numb, now gloveless fingers pulled uselessly at the buttons of her coat and tears of exhaustion and frustration welled in her eyes. The brunette swallowed as she considered her next move. No matter how clinical she might try to make it, helping the Brit out of her clothes was always going to feel overly intimate. _She’s already risking hypothermia. Isn’t a little awkwardness worth avoiding that?_

While trying not to overthink her actions, Myka crossed the room and replaced the inventor’s hands with her own. As expected, her insides flip-flopped and her mind took her to places that she’d deliberately not thought about for months. Ragged breaths brushed against her skin and she held her own so that her olfactory senses wouldn’t add another layer of confusion to her already frayed thoughts. But then Helena was free of the heavy fabric and with a whispered ‘Thank you’, a renewed veneer of determination fell over her expression.

Insisting that the Brit was in greater need, Myka thrust a towel and a change of clothes into HG’s arms and pushed her in the direction of the wet room. As the door closed between them, she stood for a moment in the middle of the living/bedroom and took several steadying breaths. The most important thing to remember was that they had managed to snag the artefact. Chasing a wolf pack up a mountain had not been the easiest of tasks, but with their talents once again united, she and Helena had triumphed. Now, they just needed to survive long enough for the rest of the team to rescue them.

With that in mind, Myka took a few short steps into the kitchen and began to examine their food supplies. Tins of meat, fish, fruits and vegetables filled one cupboard. Packs of coffee and tea, dried milk and eggs, oats, packets of biscuits, sugar, cocoa and honey filled another. Olive oil, lard, cheese and butter made up the bulk of the fridge’s contents. Four gallons of distilled, drinking water sat beneath the sink next to a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a first aid kit. The cabin was obviously meant to be a temporary relief for the weary traveller and not a long-term solution and, other than the cosy sleeping arrangements, the regent knew that they were damned lucky to have it at their disposal.

She rinsed the kettle, filled it with water and set it to boil. Deciding that she didn’t have the energy to reconstitute the milk for tea or coffee, she spooned cocoa and sugar into two mugs and then stepped back into the living area to make up the bed.

Much as she didn’t like to look too closely at any of her feelings these days, she was concerned with the Victorian’s health. Helena had looked run down and lifeless before their mission even began. After being attacked by a wolf, trudging a steep path up the side of a mountain and falling several times into snow drifts, HG had to be on the brink of collapse. Though Myka busied herself with making a cosy nest and a meal of substance, much of her attention remained focussed on the sounds of movement in the bathroom, and several times she paused during a task to strain her hearing, only moving again when she was sure that her companion was still mobile.

Since the preparations kept her moving, she began to feel less shivering in her limbs and was actually able to carry both mugs the short distance to the ‘eating area’ without spilling any of the hot liquid on herself. When Helena emerged looking, if possible, even more tired, Myka left the corned beef and potatoes that she’d been eating and met the older woman halfway.

“Helena?” she began as she placed a hand on each of the inventor’s upper arms. Instinctively, she moved her hands up and down, rubbing to create heat through friction and help the circulation to do its job of warming the frail looking figure before her. “I know you’re tired, ok? But I need you to eat and drink something.” A hesitant nod was her only answer and she felt conflicted. “At the very least, drink the cocoa,” she insisted, her hands squeezing to emphasise the seriousness of her plea. “I’ll be as quick as I can in the shower.”

HG managed a wan smile. It was nice to have her wife so close again. To hear concern and caring in her tone again and to feel the brunette’s hands touching her. “I will drink and eat my fill. Don’t need to feel… be vexed, I am simply tired.”

Myka hesitated. She heard the slur in the Brit’s voice and frowned; Helena nearly always made a point to use her best diction. “Are you sure? You can barely stand.”

“Then I shall sit,” HG answered and moved to perch on the stool that Myka had recently vacated. “Aller,” she said as firmly as she could manage. “I will still be here when you return.”

Like the Victorian, Myka avoided getting her hair wet, knowing that she had no way of drying it quickly and that it would only make her colder. The water was blissfully warm though and she indulged in an extra minute under the spray to make the most of the heat. Vigorous rubbing with the towel sapped most of the remaining energy from her arms but dispersed the last of her shivering so that she emerged from the bathroom a short time later with a healthy glow seeping back into her skin. She wished that she could say the same for her fellow regent.

HG lay huddled under the blankets when Myka returned to the main room. Most of the cocoa was gone, confirming that the other woman had attempted to follow her instruction, but the food was missing no more than a bite. Sighing silently, the brunette forced herself to finish everything on her own plate and covered the remaining one before placing it in the fridge. After a moment of hesitation, she drained both mugs, rinsed them out and refilled them with water before setting one on either side of the bed. She had a feeling that she was going to need all of her strength through the next couple of days.

Wanting to conserve their fuel, she adjusted the thermostat to only slightly above room temperature and then moved towards the bed.

As she crawled under the covers, another inevitability hit her: Helena needed to get warm sooner rather than later, and the best way to do that was to share her own renewed heat. From the moment Claudia had told them of this place and explained the journey they would have to make to get there, she knew that this moment was coming. _So trite,_ she thought stubbornly, and yet it didn’t change the circumstances. She was going to have to face her fears eventually.

Immediately after Australia, she’d assumed that her life had to be a dream because it all seemed so wonderful; exactly like the fantasy of someone who was nursing a broken heart. As the weeks and months passed though, it became clearer that her life, though fantastical at times, was no less real than when she’d first joined the Warehouse.

Knowing what she could have and letting herself have it were two very different things though. Helena was her wife. At some point, she and HG had stood before their friends and family and vowed to be together for the rest of their lives. She didn’t want to sully that with something trivial, but neither could she deny that she needed to start from the beginning again. Her desire for the Brit might not be the deep connection they’d known, but openly acknowledging that desire was a necessary step along the way.

Keeping each other from death’s door was not crossing an invisible line – it wasn’t sex – but it was intimate in a way that Myka had avoided, and it terrified her.

Fortunately, common sense and compassion won her over and, as she sank into the make shift bed, she found the inventor’s arms and tugged them around her own waist. She was met with very little resistance save her own shock as she felt slivers of icy skin against her own.

“God, Helena,” she hissed into the night. “You’re freezing.” The only intelligible answer was the nodding of a head into the hollow of her neck. For ten minutes, Myka rubbed brisk circles over her companion’s back and though it seemed to offer the Brit some relief, it was not nearly enough. Rolling her eyes and biting her lip simultaneously, she came to a decision. “We need to get these clothes off,” she said softly. She was sure that she hadn’t intended her suggestion to sound so… suggestive, but it sounded that way to her own ears and a blush rapidly rose along her neck and cheeks. It was testament to how bad her companion felt that she offered neither protest nor encouragement, but merely moved her body as much as she could to aid the process.

Her lips tingled, as if they anticipated the kisses that usually accompanied the act of de-robing with the older woman, but she steadfastly ignored them. _This isn’t sex, Myka,_ she reminded herself, _you just need a little extra heat._ That was all the encouragement she needed to let her imagination have its head. HG was in no state for anything to really happen between them, but that didn’t stop the brunette from appreciating the feel of the Brit’s skin sliding against her own, or the scent that was uniquely Helena as it invaded her senses.

An hour later, the guilt she felt for taking advantage of the other woman evaporated as the inventor’s tremors finally tapered off and soft snoring reached Myka’s ears. She would probably find their position embarrassing by the time morning arrived, but for the most part, she was relieved to have accomplished so much that day. Not least because she’d reached the conclusion that she was finally ready to given Helena another chance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's cliched, but I love a good 'trapped in a cabin/forced intimacy' plot ploy to jump start those reined in feelings! Who's with me?
> 
> I do hope that this wasn't so cliched that it was boring though!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Helena ran a fever for most of the following day, but since she managed to sit up in the afternoon to eat, drink and talk for a bit before falling back to sleep, Myka wasn’t worried enough to declare a state of emergency. After calling Claudia from her Farnsworth, relaying their situation and getting an update on the weather and their rescue plan, she settled close to her companion and watched her sleep. It was a long, tedious day, lying awake by herself, but it gave her the time she needed to think about the future and make plans for when they arrived home.

There was no need for them to strip down to their underwear the second night and Myka had to laugh inwardly at the disappointment that hit her.

As day three dawned, Helena woke to find green eyes keeping careful watch over her and couldn’t help the gratified smile that crept onto her face. “Good morning,” she greeted huskily. Yawning and stretching, she allowed herself to bask in the awareness of her stiff muscles and sleep-encrusted eyes. Neither sensation was particularly pleasant, but after a day or more of near oblivious existence, she was glad to be feeling human again. “What time is it?”

“Early,” Myka replied with a restrained smile. She had an inexplicable urge to laugh but managed to rein it in. Something was happening to her. Ever since she’d accepted that she wanted to be more intimate with HG, she’d become restless and almost giddy with anticipation. Her thoughts were dancing around like she was fifteen years old again and newly in love. It made no sense. _Or it makes complete sense and you just don’t want to admit it,_ her inner voice teased. “You’ve been asleep for the best part of thirty-six hours, it’s good to see you properly awake.”

“So much for a forty-eight hour mission,” Helena grumbled lightly. Something in her companion’s voice grabbed her attention and she looked across the bed. “Did I scare you?”

“A bit,” Myka admitted.

“I’m sorry, darling,” HG responded softly. “Myka, I mean,” she corrected as she realised that she’d slipped back into a habit of using terms of endearment. “My brain appears to need a little longer to wake up.”

“It’s ok,” the brunette replied. For a moment, they gazed at each other and she felt a flush suffuse her body. She coughed. “I’m going to make us some breakfast. Do you want to take a shower while you’re waiting?”

The raven-haired regent watched with curious amusement as her wife scrambled out of bed and began to fuss around the room, deliberately avoiding eye contact. As she sat up and tried to tame her wayward hair, Helena wondered at the source of Myka’s awkwardness. There was a cup of tea in her hands before she connected the brunette’s current behaviour to what it had been before they first became lovers.

This realisation brought a teary smile to her face and she raised her cup to her lips to hide any hint of the joy that filled her. She took her time in the shower and knew as soon as she re-entered the main room that it’d been the right thing to do. The bed was a sofa again and most of the sheets and blankets were folded in a neat pile atop the chest of drawers. Myka sat cross-legged with steam rising from a bowl on her lap and glanced up at Helena with a smile ghosting her lips.

“Feel better?” Myka asked before she raised a spoon from her bowl and blew on the contents.

“Much, thank you.” HG crossed the small space as she continued to towel her hair dry. “You’ve taken great care of me, Myka and I appreciate it, but it is surprising how a simple, warm shower can make one feel whole again.” Spying a second steaming bowl, she picked it up and moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch before tucking in.

“Cleanliness is next to Godliness?” Myka teased after too long a pause.

Helena’s eyebrows rose in acknowledgement. She was delighted by the subtle change in the brunette’s demeanour and chalked it up to the action-packed adventures of the past few days, but she was careful not to push too fast. In fact, if she was entirely sensible of their dynamic, she wouldn’t dismiss the topic that had put them at such odds in the first place. It would be up to her to broach the subject. “I had a nanny who used to tell me that almost daily,” she responded after taking her time to eat a little. “To be fair to her, it was usually after she’d found me up a tree and covered in debris from the garden. My mother charged her with the unenviable task of keeping me in line and teaching me to behave like a lady.”

Myka chuckled as she imagined a young HG running circles around her governess. She ate the last of her food and returned the bowl to the kitchen, leaving a growing tenseness in her wake. She could almost taste it in the atmosphere but didn’t know why it was there. Not until HG’s next hushed words hit her.

“I think we both know that I’m the last person who should be attempting to emulate God.”

Myka turned to find HG placing her mostly empty bowl on the floor. Automatically, her arms wrapped across her ribs and she sank into herself. “You want to talk about _that_? Now?” she challenged, half hoping that the inventor would drop it.

Helena spread her hands out in front of her. “It does us no good to ignore the elephant in the room indefinitely,” she answered. She watched green eyes roll and sighed. “Myka, there was a time that I would have happily avoided any notion of discussing my foibles, but that person – that version of me was entirely too arrogant. I am not without weakness but I hope you still believe that I’ve changed.”

The younger regent shuffled slightly on her feet as she listened. Jaw set stubbornly and eyes staring into space, she mulled over the Brit’s words. She considered the last few months and the way her feelings had evolved during that time. Slowly, her expression softened. “You have changed,” she agreed with a glance at the figure on the couch. A deeper sigh punctuated a change of heart and she trod lightly across the living area to retake her position next to the inventor. “And you’re right, we can’t avoid talking about Egypt forever.”

Helena smiled sadly, tucked her feet beneath her body and spread the leftover blanket over her knees. As it was big enough to stretch between them, she offered the other end to her companion, who took it without much hesitation. “We took the children to see the pyramids once, you and I. About three years ago.” She checked green eyes to make sure that Myka was comfortable listening to her talk about their life together before continuing. “We had talked about going back several times beforehand but it has never been a subject that we could face with ease. It will forever be a period in our lives that fosters ill-feeling and the fault for that lies with me.”

“Why did you do it?” Myka blurted abruptly, as if the thought shot from her without permission. Since it was out there now, she decided that she needed answers after all. “Why didn’t you just talk to me and let me help you?”

It was this point that tormented the American most. They had been lovers and she had felt a connection that went deeper than anything she had felt before. From her point of view, they were heading towards a committed relationship, and then everything had fallen apart so suddenly and she was forced to question everything she’d thought she’d known. Now, those thoughts festered in the background and much as she didn’t want to analyse them, she knew that Helena was right to insist that they talk about it.

If her recent thoughts were anything to go by, she wanted them to be an item again. Wanted to be a part of the family as a permanent, present fixture and not a transient figure who visited solely to see their children. Now that her question was out there, she studied the Victorian closely and waited for a response.

Helena gazed at her hands for several seconds before looking back up and capturing the brunette’s gaze. “I wanted to, Myka.” She recalled their time at the bed and breakfast, feeling a residue of the melancholy that had imprisoned her from time to time. “Every day, I looked at you and I wanted to fall. I knew that you would try to catch me.”

_I wanted to fall,_ Myka repeated to herself, finding the phrasing interesting. “So, why didn’t you? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, love,” she answered, unaware this time of the familiarity in her address. “You did everything right.” Helena gathered her thoughts and a cleansing breath before pushing forward. It helped that they’d had a similar conversation once before, but that had been long ago and, as she’d already noted, this was a subject that remained difficult to approach. “On the rare occasion that I stayed until you were asleep, I watched you. I considered a future where we might be more than lovers. I knew that I could open my soul to you and that you would accept everything that I am. But therein lay the problem.” She watched surprise turn to confusion. “I knew that I would love you so completely that I would have to risk being broken again. Of course, I wanted to believe that I had recovered somewhat from losing Christina; the pain was at least not so raw, but opening my heart to you meant opening it to that loss too and I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Myka repeated, though she thought she knew what the inventor was referring to.

“Of being hurt again,” Helena clarified. “I told myself that you would not suffer. That what I planned to do would cleanse the world for all innocents. I told myself that it was an act of mercy, but it was an act of cowardice, of weakness.” She smiled through her gloom as she added, “I am fortunate that you were strong enough for the both of us.”

“You weren’t in your right mind,” the brunette summed up, using words that the Brit had once thrown at her in a graveyard.

HG nodded dejectedly. “Nor had I been for a very long time. I could not see the wood for the trees.”

Myka thought she understood. Though she didn’t know her children as well as she should, after months of getting to know them, she was livid at the thought of someone stalking and attacking her son.  That didn’t mean she was prepared to murder billions of people. “Are you in your right mind now?”

“You have guided my moral compass for many years now, love. Or, the thought of your approval has at least. Much as I have considered avenging you and Fredrick, I decided that my energies were better put to use in showing you that your trust was not misplaced, and in helping our children to find strength in the face of these attacks.” She looked at Myka hopefully. “Does that count for anything?”

Myka had thought about and expected a more threatening reaction from the other woman. Though considering how long HG had waited before enacting her ‘ice-age’ plan, she hadn’t ruled out the possibility that the inventor was simply biding her time again and waiting for the ideal time to strike. She didn’t necessarily believe Helena when she said that she had no intention of seeking revenge, but since the other woman was willing to discuss her thoughts this time around, she had to give credit where it was due. Perhaps she was being honest and had learned to control her darker urges.

Biting her lip, Myka tried to process Helena’s explanation of the events leading up to Warehouse 2. It didn’t change the hurt she’d felt at the time but there was a sense of closure in knowing the thoughts that had driven her lover to betray her. As for the rest – the present and future – considering either made her suddenly restless.

She pulled the blanket from her legs and put some distance between them before turning a conflicted gaze on the raven-haired woman. “I want to believe that you’ve changed for good, Helena. I do.” A hand rose to her neck to squeeze out the tension there. “I want to believe that you’ve given up on crazy vendettas and retribution against the worthless few, but…”

“You don’t trust me,” HG finished calmly, if a little downheartedly. “It’s ok,” she added as she calmly folded the blanket, followed the brunette across the room and stood close enough to reach out and place her hands on the other regent’s forearms. She recalled the first time they’d been intimate after they’d found Christina, the brunette’s distrust had been present then too, but they’d managed to work through it. “Myka, after the regents imprisoned me, we worked together on several cases, through life and death situations – such as we’ve experienced this week – and eventually, we rebuilt trust between us. Enough that we could begin exploring ‘us’ again.” She let her thumbs trace what she hoped was a comforting pattern over the brunette’s skin. Scepticism remained behind green eyes, but she didn’t let it discourage her. “Even then, a lot of time passed before that trust was truly strong.”

Myka’s skin tingled beneath the inventor’s touch. A stubborn voice in the back of her mind insisted that this speech was all part of a ploy to make her vulnerable again, to take advantage of her again, but it was no more than a whisper and its influence on her had weakened considerably. She could no longer deny her attraction to this woman. After many weeks of seeing Helena as a mother, a friend, a granddaughter and a regent, she’d found her anger difficult to hold on to and somewhere along the line, she’d begun to feel that carnal pull again. If she understood the inventor correctly, then maybe it was time to put her thoughts into action and see where it took them.

“I can’t promise anything,” she cautioned carefully. Despite everything, she was sensitive to HG’s situation and didn’t want to hurt her, either with rejection or unreasonable assurances.

“I know, love. I’m not going anywhere,” Helena replied. “I am _your_ wife, Myka,” she added, surprising the brunette. “I’m yours. Always. So, take as much time as you need.”

Whether it was the absolute sincerity in Helena’s eyes, the timbre of her voice or their close proximity, Myka found a grain of courage crawling through her body. This was the closest they’d been in months and the pull was intoxicating; without conscious thought, her lips touched the corner of the inventor’s mouth and her body livened. Time seemed to slip away as her hands found the curves of hips, her digits closing around borrowed clothing and dragging the inventor closer. Fingers burrowed into her hair and the taste of Helena’s tongue invaded her mouth, making her feel simultaneously weak and invincible.

As her fingers re-explored pale, flushed skin, images of HG at the bed and breakfast – in various stages of undress – flooded Myka’s mind. With Helena’s reassurance that the progress of their relationship was in her control, she felt suddenly free to take that leap and allowed her desires to control the direction of her hands, letting them stray from hips to waist and over ribs that rose and fell excitedly.

In spite of the green light and the conveniently isolated location, a torrid reacquainting was not on the cards; a rapid knocking at the door broke into their embrace and forced them apart. Dazed and a bit apprehensive, Helena looked to Myka and searched flushed features for a reaction. Had she wanted too much; pushed too far? As a crooked smile grew from the corner of the brunette’s mouth and a heated gaze found her from beneath lowered lashes, HG relaxed and returned a shy smile of her own.

She had not expected their conversation to end so well, especially considering how reluctant Myka had been to talk. Though her body thrummed with need, she knew she should be grateful for the interruption – jumping so quickly from one extreme to the other would only hinder the progress they were making. She was in for the long haul and was determined to win her wife over.

A second knock encouraged Myka to move to the door where she peeped quickly through the spy hole before unlocking and letting two snow-speckled figures into the cabin. “Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted the second figure and pulled the young woman into a hug.

Christina ripped the hat from her head and returned the gesture, her eyes flicking between her parents for any sign of injury or illness. “Are you guys alright?” she asked frantically as she pulled away. “The weather’s been crazy!”

“Not as crazy as those wily wolves,” Claudia added as she tugged at her scarf and collapsed onto the couch. “So, you managed not to kill each other then? Bonus!”

Myka snorted while the Brit rolled her eyes. “We managed to restrain ourselves. It helped that Helena slept for almost two days,” she teased and, still high from the kiss, threw her cabin-companion a look that melted the inventor’s legs. Smirking to herself, she wandered over to her backpack and pulled out the static bag that she’d tucked inside. “I wouldn’t recommend chasing wild animals or their artefact possessed humans up a mountain any time soon,” she advised as she held the bag out to the caretaker, “but here’s what you were looking for.”

* * * * *

They returned to Denver and then Boulder later that day, grateful to have been rescued and even more grateful to be embraced by their children and to relax in the luxury of the Wells-Bering house. Given another day or two at the cabin, HG would have been rested enough to bear the hike back to their car, but as the weather had taken a surprising turn for the worse, it had made more sense to wait for Christina and Claudia with their snow-mobiles.

In the entrance hall a figure waited, her hazel eyes shifting between her parents as if looking for signs of something different.

While Freddy had bounded out of the door seconds after greeting his parents, Catherine wrapped her arms around Myka when the regent stepped closer and sighed into the adult’s shirt. She’d been worried when her sister had told her about their mothers needing to stay in the woods in Montana for a couple of days and had wanted to send helicopters and rangers out instantly to bring them home. A few words of reassurance and a few more words suggesting that the time alone would benefit their mothers, was enough to stop the panic and settle her mind. Still, it was difficult having them both away from home and in potential danger. She hadn’t slept much and the relief at seeing her parents at home was enough to make her want to crash onto the nearest horizontal surface.

Recognising the signs, Helena approached and began to stroke the girl’s hair. “You look tired, love.” She frowned and shared a look with Myka, communicating her concern without words. “Did you not sleep well?”

Myka felt the eleven-year-old’s head move back and forth across her collar bone and started rubbing soothing patterns over the girl’s back. It was the middle of the afternoon and the younger two had not long returned home from school. The regent looked down into a sleepy face and had to wonder whether her daughter had learned anything at school since she and HG left for their mission. “Why don’t you go and get some rest for an hour or two, hmm? Your mother or I could come and read to you for a bit if you want?”

“I’m too old for stories,” Catherine decided in that moment, but she regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

“I have it on good authority that your Mum still likes it when I read to _her_ ,” the brunette whispered into the girl’s ear and glanced up at the inventor with a playful smirk.

The pre-teen glanced up at the precise moment that her mothers’ eyes met and caught the lingering gaze between them. Her heart leapt and a grin pulled at her mouth. “Ok,” she answered, her grin widening at the almost startled look that caught her parents – like they’d forgotten for a second where they were. “Just this once.”

The regents returned from their daughter’s room twenty minutes later wearing matching expressions of maternal adoration and met the rest of their small team gathered around the breakfast bar.

 “So, what do we know about this artefact then?” Myka asked as she moved across Helena’s kitchen a few minutes later and set a cup of tea down in front of the inventor. They shared a brief glance, which was enough to make her heart flutter in her chest, and she suppressed a pleased smile before busying herself with making coffee.

After a short journey on the back of the snow-mobiles and reaching their hire-car, they’d discovered that Bradley’s was gone. The caretaker explained – to their relief – that the moment he returned to town and used his card at a cash machine, she’d been able to locate him. Believing that he could still be a danger to them, she’d advised local law enforcement to detain him for questioning and left him for Adwin Kosan to deal with. As Myka thought back to the moment that she’d hesitated between arresting him and searching for her partner and the alpha wolf, she realised that she no longer had the authority to detain anyone. It was something she definitely needed to remember – citizens’ arrest for possession of a tooth-totem was not something that the constabulary would have looked lightly upon.

“We believe that it once belonged to Sitting Bull and that his success in uniting the Sioux tribes imbued it with the _spirit of the wolf_ ,” Christina informed her parents. “Since Sitting Bull was born in what is now South Dakota, we think that Chapman might have been in the area to check out the new Warehouse when it moved and came across it. Or else…” she hesitated and glanced at the redhead for encouragement.

Claudia shrugged, offering an apology as she took up the explanation, “Or else he might have known Sitting Bull personally.”

“You think he was in Custer’s army?” Myka wondered aloud. “The Sioux wouldn’t have let a white man so close to their tribes, would they? Not after being deceived so many times by that point.”

“Not likely,” the caretaker confirmed, “but then we don’t know what Chapman looked like at the time. Which nationality did his body conform to at that time? He might have looked just different enough to give him access.”

“Or he might well have fought for Custer,” Christina blurted, breaking the increasingly tense atmosphere. “Or been a spectator.”

Helena had a sudden image of her enemy over hundreds of years, picking his way through the debris in the aftermath of history’s victories and blunders. “Having survived for so long, he might have developed a habit of loitering near to places of significance in the hopes of finding useful artefacts.”

“Like carrion scavengers,” Myka added grimly. “You said that he manipulated his lineage to keep his blood pure though. Isn’t that what the regents told you?” she asked the inventor, who’d finished her tea and was now just playing with the handle of the cup.

Myka found her gaze unwaveringly drawn to those hands and felt a shiver of something suppressed tingle against the back of her head and base of her spine. She swallowed passed a lump in her throat as phantom fingers explored neglected nerves. Someone coughed, yanking her out of her head, and she looked up to find knowing darkness gazing back at her with the same depth of wanting. She swallowed again and pressed her nails into her palms to break the grip of those memories and desires.

HG bit back the pleased smile that wanted to invade her expression of dutiful attentiveness and focussed on the question. “We were all of the opinion that his pursuit of ‘purity’ would negate, for the most part, his crossing cultural boundaries. Though we cannot be entirely sure of his definition of pure. Yes, we established that, like royalty, he appears to always chose a woman of familial connection to carry his progeny. However, humans tend to migrate to all corners of the globe and nature being what it is, children become the products of varying cultural partnerships. From what little we’ve researched about Heracles’ rise through the ages, I rather think that he defines ‘pure’ with more emphasis on his mate’s attributes and accomplishments.”

“More like an instinctive Darwinian drive than a cultural distilling process?” Myka wondered, her thoughts taking her to dark and disturbing places. All lustful thoughts dissipated as she glanced at her daughter and then back at her wife, a collective fear rising between them.

“Precisely.” Helena nodded gravely.

Christina ignored the looks, feigning ignorance. It was a terrifying concept to consider – the possibility of an archaic entity considering her as a prospective mate – but since they had no way of knowing Chapman’s plans, there was little point in dwelling on it. She thought of Catherine though and found a strong resolve settle in her stomach. _If he lays a hand on my sister…_ She shook off the thought and straightened in her seat. “We could speculate all day. I think the thing to remember is that we have the artefact that enabled him to amass large groups of followers and we should consider guarding against a reprisal or an attempt to retrieve it.”

“I don’t think we have to worry for a while,” Claudia informed them with a shrug. “It seems that whenever he’s popped up in the last century and a half with a bunch of fanatics at his back, it’s not long before he goes to ground again. I think he’s disbanded for now. Whatever he needed, he’s got and if he’s true to his habits, he won’t resurface again until he has to.”

“What was Bradley doing with the tooth then?” Myka frowned, feeling her thoughts tying themselves in knots.

“Recharging is my best guess,” the caretaker shrugged some more. “The power of the tooth comes from the ‘wolf spirit’. Sitting Bull probably had that strength already through his faith in the animals, but Chapman would need to seek it out.”

HG ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “More conjecture.”

“’Fraid so, HG. He’s biding his time and though it’s as frustrating as waiting for Artie to conquer a flight of stairs, we’ve got to wait him out.” The caretaker drained her mug and slid off her stool. “On the bright side, it gives us more time to prepare.”

“But for what?” Myka pushed.

“For as many eventualities as we can,” the redhead replied, her expression apologetic again, knowing that she wasn’t helping much. “At the very least, we need time to regroup and work at not being so fractured.” There was a hint of a glance between the two regents but it was gone before either could dwell on it. “Speaking of – I need to get back to my boys and see how Poopy-Pants is holding up.”

Helena finally pushed her tea-cup away and moved to embrace her friend. “Thank you for rescuing us,” she said with energy before lowering her voice significantly. “Though your timing could have been better.” She pulled back her eyes twinkling to show that she was teasing. “Give our love to Steve and Jason.”

Only half surprised by the whispered revelation (she and Christina had unnecessarily drawn out their search for snow-mobiles for that very reason), Claudia smirked back and fist-pumped the inventor’s shoulder. “Will do. Take care, you guys.” She moved to hug Christina and then Myka. “Christmas is only a couple of weeks away, so make sure you get me something good! A quad-bike would be nice – all the off-road fun without the snow.”

“You’ll just have to wait to see what old St. Nick decides you deserve this year,” Myka joked before beginning to gather the cups and mugs to drop them in the sink.

As Claudia left and Christina excused herself to retire to her room, Helena suddenly realised that she and Myka were alone again and tensed for an entirely new reason. She turned to watch her wife pull on rubber gloves and reach for the dish-soap and felt a sense of sad-contentment at the simple, domestic image. “You need not worry about the dishes, Myka. I will clean up before I retire for the evening.”

The brunette kept her gaze on her task as a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe I just needed a distraction.”

HG’s eyebrow rose incrementally and she side-stepped closer to lean against the counter. “A distraction from what, might I ask?”

Myka clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and then bit her lip to stop from smiling too much. How was it so easy to fall back into this pattern of flirting when they were alone? Had she really only needed to hear a few words of explanation for everything to be ok between them again? No, it wasn’t that easy, but she couldn’t deny the comfort that accompanied the effortless banter either. She scrubbed the last cup, rinsed it and sat it on the draining board before pulling off the gloves and hanging them over the side of the sink to dry. The menial task gave her just enough time to calm her libido and remind her that they needed to take their time now that they’d begun down this path again. “I think you know, Helena.”

While Myka’s tone wasn’t admonishing, HG took the hint that was so obvious in the brunette’s posture and smiled sheepishly. “Do you plan on returning to the shop tonight?”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to stay,” the younger regent cautioned. “I don’t want the kids to assume that I’m moving back in. Unless you’re still not feeling well?”

Helena shook her head, masking her disappointment with a teasing smile. “I could fake an illness if you’d like?” She watched a blush climb along the brunette’s neck and chuckled at the glare that came her way. “Well, if you change your mind, the guest room is always open to you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

An awkward silence ensued, though the tenseness had very little to do with the inventor’s mistakes or Myka’s anger. The excitement of their mission was still warm in their veins and in times gone by they would have sat down with a celebratory drink and chatted at length about the Warehouse, or literature, or history, or any number of topics. But since neither regent seemed prepared to suggest the option, there was very little left to do.

“Claude mentioned Christmas,” Myka noted with a sudden spark of inspiration. “I guess that you and the kids have traditions that you’ll want to keep to?”

Helena’s expression softened in thought, her brow furrowing for a fraction of a second. “Fredrick has started to spend longer in bed in the mornings, but Christina and Catherine still like to wake up early. The last couple of years, they’ve joined you in the kitchen, preparing any number of things to eat throughout the day.”

“And you?” Myka smiled more readily again. “You become a lady of leisure for the holiday, do you?” she teased.

“Would that you would allow me the morning in bed,” Helena huffed good-naturedly. “Fredrick and I might happily snooze til midday and exist on mince-pies for the rest. As it is, I ensure that the fire in the living room is crackling, the stockings are stocked, that the presents are present beneath the tree and a little tidying here and there when needed. Years gone by, I might also have been responsible for cleaning up after the yuletide, red-robed chimney-shuffler.”

A chuckle rose from the depths of the brunette’s stomach but as she remembered their current situation, it fizzled away. “How do you see that going this year?”

The inventor sucked in a lungful of air and sighed. “Traditions can be wonderful things, Myka, but we are adaptable. We have to be. I’m open to any suggestions that you have.”

Green eyes fogged over in thought and focussed into the distance. It sounded nice, the idea of spending her first waking hours in the kitchen with her daughters and listening to the sound of HG pottering about and making sure that the Christmas spirit was alive and well in the house, while they waited for their teenaged son to drag himself out of bed. But it was too cosy, too perfect and she wasn’t ready for something so intimate.

“How about Christmas at the shop this year?” she asked cautiously. “You made a good job of the reading area, we could have a family camp-out?”

“Hmm,” HG made a non-committal noise and thought about it for a moment. “It has merit,” she thought aloud. “Catherine will love it, I have no doubt – she might actually insist on pitching a tent in there if you mention the words ‘camp’ and ‘out’. Fredrick may take some convincing, but I imagine that the novelty will be enough to interest him.”

Relief and gratitude lit Myka’s face. “And Christina?”

Helena’s eyes rolled fondly. “So long as Thomas has an invite, she will be happy wherever we are.”

“Shall we work on the details and put it to them in a couple of days then?” the brunette wondered, her gaze searching for anything in the inventor’s demeanour that might tell her that this was actually a really bad idea.

“Yes, I think that would be best.”

“You’re really ok with this?”

“Ok is relative, Myka.” Seeing the concern behind her favourite shade of green, HG closed the distance between them with two short steps. As she lifted a hand to touch lightly against a warm cheek, she didn’t care if she was crossing a line this time; it was important that her wife understood how she felt about their situation. “You are alive and so is our family. Fredrick is fast healing; the girls are laughing again and you are learning how to trust me once more. Of course, I would rather none of you had been hurt by recent events, but such is life. And a life in connection with the Warehouse at that. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I cannot change that which has already past.” She paused to study the features that she loved so much and leant in to place a gentle, but longing kiss against waiting lips. “We will be together, sharing the holiday. Little else matters to me.”

Before she could register the slight panic that hit her, Myka recaptured HG’s lips and sank into a deeper kiss. _How can humble Helena be sexier than dangerous, rules be damned Helena?_ she wondered privately as a moan filled the back of her throat. Tasting the desperation between them, she dragged herself back and took a few calming breaths. _It is so much harder to find excuses to stop when no one disapproves,_ she thought while her brain tried to find the words that would force her to leave. Thankfully, the inventor chose not to push and found the answer for her.

“Call me tomorrow and let me know what your proposed plans are for Christmas and I will bring the children over as usual so we can see what everyone thinks,” Helena managed to say despite the pounding rhythm in her chest.

“Great!” Myka responded with an overabundance of enthusiasm as she backed her way towards the door. In the hallway, she continued to walk without looking where she was going and nearly tripped over her backpack when she reached the front door. “Right, ok… I need this and… keys, somewhere…?” She patted her pockets for several seconds before remembering that she’d dropped them in the bowl next to the coat-rack. Muttering to herself, she pushed her feet into her shoes, grabbed the top of her bag and reached for the handle. A gust of frigid air knocked her back into her senses and she stepped out onto the driveway amidst a cloud of frozen breath.

“Myka?” HG called gently as she stood in the doorway, the door half closed behind her in a vain attempt to keep the heat in the house.

“Mm-hm?”

“We will work everything out, in time. Concentrate on the road and drive carefully. Please?” she begged, fearing that her wife’s distraction might be enough to put her in danger of a collision.

A soberer expression met the inventor’s worried gaze and Myka nodded her understanding. “I will. I’ll call later to say goodnight,” she assured the Brit and slipped gratefully into her car.

Helena retreated into the house and shut out the cold. She contemplated the letterbox for a long moment before a noise drew her attention and she turned to find a figure hovering at the bottom of the stairs, looking at her with an expression of hope and mischief. “Sleeping Beauty awakes. What would you like for… oomph!” she exhaled in a gush as the eleven-year-old shot into her and squeezed the life out of her. “What’s this for?” she asked in astonishment.

“Mama loves you,” Cat replied and grinned up at the adult. “That means she’s coming home soon.” Seeing the reserved caution in her mother’s gaze, she rolled her eyes. “I know, I know – be patient. But she will be coming home.”

HG cupped her daughter’s face between her palms and kissed the girl’s forehead. Hazel shone with joy and she couldn’t help responding with her own. “I think you’re right, my love.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worth the wait?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some well timed, pre-Christmas festive feels coming up... And villains doing what they do.

** Chapter Eleven **

It was the day before Christmas Eve and Helena stood in her living room, sipping a cup of tea while she watched her children move slowly and silently in the games room. Tai Chi had been Myka’s suggestion after Freddy had complained endlessly about not being able to join in with their combat training until his doctor gave him the all-clear for energetic exercise. Christina had enrolled herself at a night class and was passing on everything she learned to her siblings. It had crossed the regent’s mind that she would probably enjoy a bash at it herself, but there was something special about the three youngsters having this activity to themselves.

She felt a presence behind her and half turned. “Catherine is growing too fast,” she noted and looked back at her youngest. “She’s all arms and legs.”

“She’ll grow out of it,” Myka replied. “I did.”

The inventor eyed her wife’s figure from head to toe and drank it in. “Then she has much potential.” An elbow caught her arm deliberately and nearly tipped the last of her drink in her lap. “Christ!” she hissed and scowled at the quiet chuckle that followed.

Ignoring the inventor’s narrowed gaze, Myka tried the move again and doubled over at the incredulous look on the Brit’s face. Holding her sides, she clamped a hand over her mouth and put some space between them in case HG decided to retaliate. The whispered ‘you are playing with fire’ did little to scare her. In fact, if anything it only spurred her on. “Why, what are you gonna do about it, old lady?”

Helena’s eyes darkened at the question and a spark of mischief and scheming reappeared briefly – enough to send a thrill of nervous anticipation through her companion. She stepped closer, eyes searching for any sign that she was crossing a line while her voice took on the quality of silk. “When you least expect it, I will get my revenge.” Realising that their antics were drawing an audience, she met the brunette’s gaze with a challenge and retreated – moving fluidly across the room to head for the hallway.

Myka swallowed and sucked on her lower lip for half a second before following, oblivious to the curious gazes from her children. A couple of months ago, a comment like that from HG would have dragged up every ill feeling from their time in Egypt, but all she felt at that moment was a carnal desire to feel the inventor pressed tightly against her. She wanted her partner’s hands and lips to do something with the throbbing in her veins and it would be much later in the day before she would recognise that this was a sign that she was beginning to trust again.

In the games room, three pairs of eyes smiled at each other with knowing and three hearts eased as a little more worry melted. Catherine tracked her parents’ movements with intense curiosity, anticipating lips meeting and preparing to screw her eyes shut if it happened. When her mothers parted with nothing more than words exchanged, she pouted and leant as far as she could to one side, hoping to catch sight of a kiss as her Mama disappeared through the door after her Mum. Realising the shift in her centre of gravity too late, gangly arms flailed with no effect and she crashed to the floor in a heap. At the sound of barely restrained sniggering, she flushed with embarrassment, huffed and dragged the sliding door open before stomping off.

“Oh dear, we’re for it now,” Christina commented as she watched her sister disappear.

Freddy shrugged, irritated by the regret that pulled at his insides. “It’s not like we were making fun of her; she should know that.” He was determined not to feel guilty when his amusement had been a reflex. “I mean, come on! That was pure comedy material. Who wouldn’t laugh?”

“I know, but she’s upset,” the young woman countered as she reached down for her yoga mat and began to tidy the few things they’d taken out for their session.

“So, she gets to be upset because she fell over and feels embarrassed, but I guess I’m not allowed to be annoyed that we had to finish early ‘cause she’s clumsy?” he complained and shoved his mat non-too carefully into a storage chest. “She keeps saying that she doesn’t want to be treated like a little kid, but then she goes and acts like one!”

“You’re allowed to be annoyed, Rick. Just don’t be an arse about it!” Christina told him, rolling her eyes as she left him to his grumbling.

“Oh, dear,” Helena commented as her eldest entered the kitchen and sank her head into the fridge. “And you were all getting along so well,” she joked and surreptitiously moved her hand from where it’d been woven with Myka’s.

“I bet you’ll be glad to get back to college after the winter break,” the younger regent said as she shifted her chair a little further away from the inventor’s.

Christina pursed her lips and joined her parents on a stool at the breakfast-bar, fixing them both with a knowing stare. “You two can stop trying to pretend that you weren’t just making out, you know,” she told them pointedly and smirked triumphantly at their twin, chagrin expressions. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen or heard worse,” she prodded further and had to chuckle at the deep red that painted her Mama’s face.

HG tutted, recovering quickly from the shock of nearly being caught in a heated embrace by her daughter. Christina was right, it would hardly be the first time. She wasn’t going to let something as trivial as embarrassment prevent her from kissing her wife. Behind the young woman’s teasing, she detected something else though and assumed it had to do with Myka’s comment. “Did you need to talk to us, love?”

“Erm, about college…” she hedged and waited until she both her mothers’ attentions.

HG reached over the counter-top and wrapped her hand around one of her daughter’s. “You don’t have to worry about being at home or at the shop if you need more time to yourself. You’ve done more than enough to help out around here; you deserve a break to study and socialise outside of your family.”

Myka nodded, making the same assumption as the inventor. “You’re Mum’s right. We can handle anything that comes up around here or at the shop. Just don’t forget to give your moms a call every now and then, huh?”

“That’s great, but…” Christina drew a long breath before ripping off the news like a band-aid, “I dropped out.” She watched as her parents’ faces froze and felt her stomach drop. “I mean, I have the credits, and I already have a first with my degree, and I plan to go back eventually to finish my doctorate but…” Hearing the desperation in her own words, she shrank back into her chair. “Are you angry?”

The regents shared a glance, attempting to communicate their thoughts to one another. The exchange wasn’t what Helena had known before Myka became separated from their vows and the rings, but there was still a seed of some natural bond that had been resurrected in the last couple of weeks. With that one look, they knew instinctively what the other was feeling in this case.

“No, sweetheart, we’re not angry,” Myka began for them.

“Did you imagine that we would be?” Helena added, hoping that the answer would help her understand her child better.

“Well, you were both so happy when I graduated and started studying for my doctorate,” Christina explained. “I remembered how hard it was for you, Mum, when you wanted to study at university, and Ma, you pushed hard to learn too… I just wanted you to be proud, but everything that’s happening around us – especially after Rick was hurt – I need to train harder. I need to feel ready to fight back and a piece of paper and a title aren’t going to do that.”

HG nodded slowly, feeling the sting of those words for different reasons. “You are an adult and entitled to your own decisions. I feel many things on your behalf, love – disappointment, frustration, concern – but only pride in relation to your bravery.”

“You think I’m brave?”

“We know you’re brave,” Myka assured her daughter firmly. “In this case, you had to be worried about how we would react, but you’ve obviously thought about what you want to do and decided to do it anyway.” She laughed at herself a little as a memory rose up in her mind. “You know, if it hadn’t been for an artefact taking hold of my dad, I don’t think I’d have ever told him that I left the Secret Service.”

“It wasn’t your choice to leave,” Christina noted sympathetically.

The brunette smiled, grateful for the effort the young woman was making. “But it was my decision not to tell him. In a way, I suppose the Warehouse saved my relationship with him. I hope you know that it’s not just a title and a piece of paper,” she added. “Those things might be nice to have, but the important things are the knowledge, understanding, experience and so much more that you find during your studies.”

“And true equality comes from having a choice, love. There are many ways to learn – formal academia is not the holy grail.”

Christina sighed with relief, her eyes misting over again as she smiled. “Thank you. I know you’re feeling more than you’re saying, but thank you for being ok with this.”

“Supporting you is what we’re here for,” Helena told the young woman in no uncertain terms. Feeling that the conversation was over for now, she changed the subject, “So why is your sister sulking upstairs?”

As the morning drifted into the afternoon and lunch was laid upon the table, Catherine emerged from her bedroom and slipped in beside her sister without a word about her minor tantrum or her embarrassment. Freddy eyed her suspiciously but when his younger sister dove into her food without a glance in his direction, he decided that it was safe to tuck into his own meal. All three adults looked briefly at one another, silently wondering if this was a calm before a storm.

“So, Tommy’s going to help me bring back everything from campus – he’s keeping it in his room for now. I was wondering if I could store some of it in Aunt Tracy’s old room at the shop?” Christina asked, breaking the odd silence.

“Is there not enough space in your bedroom?” Helena wondered aloud.

Catching on faster, Myka eyed the young woman. “You want to live at the shop?”

Catherine’s head snapped up, her eyes meeting her sister’s. She dropped her cutlery back onto her plate with a clang and pushed herself sharply back from the table. “Everybody’s supposed to be coming home, not moving away!” she cried and fled from the room for the second time that day.

HG began to get up, but a hand on her arm gave her pause and she looked to find Myka pushing her plate away too. “Are you sure?” the inventor asked gently.

The brunette nodded. “I’m sure. She needs to hear this from me.”

Fredrick’s eyes followed his mother from the room and he felt his appetite leave him. “Here we go again! She always gets attention when she’s in a mood,” he grumbled. “I get a lecture and she gets a pat on the head. How is that fair?”

Helena’s eyebrow shot up. “I have more than enough lectures to go around, love. Catherine has had her share, believe me.”

The teen frowned like he didn’t believe her. He eyed his twin, recalling her earlier words and then huffed and slumped back in his chair. Part of him understood how his little sister was feeling. Much as he didn’t want to admit it or analyse the feelings too closely, he hated the rift that had formed between his parents, even if it was slowly closing. Some days, he wanted to stomp off to his room too or shout and scream at everyone, but no, _he_ had to be mature because he was older. “I’m sorry, Mum, but this is shit. First Ma moves out, then Tina does, and now we can’t even have Christmas at home!”

“Rick…” Christina began in her ‘older sister’ voice, but stopped at the sharp look her mother gave her.

“Love,” Helena started as patiently as she could manage. “The last few months have been hard on all of us. Do you think that there are no nights when I wake up to find your mother not there and cry myself back to sleep?”

At that confession, twin expressions of mild horror rounded on the inventor and the teen appeared immediately contrite. “Mum, I’m…”

“No, don’t be sorry. You’re absolutely right – this situation is far from ideal and you have all handled it remarkably well. We all keep our feelings hidden when perhaps we shouldn’t. I am guilty too of assuming that Catherine has the advantage; she appears to exorcise her emotions better than any of us, but don’t let her strops fool you – she keeps as much bottled up as you and I.” Helena pulled her hands through her hair and briefly closed her eyes. “I know we’ve always asked a lot of you. I hate to ask for more, but your mother needs us. Change is rarely easy, but it doesn’t have to be unenjoyable. If you can think of anything that will make the holiday better for all of us, then by all means, dip your oar in.”

Quelled, Fredrick hung his head and nodded. _Great. Now I feel worse. Good going, Rick!_ he admonished himself. Christina got up and disappeared from the room, leaving him and their mum alone. “I really am sorry, Mum,” he said quietly.

HG pushed from her chair and moved quickly around the table to sit next to her son. Ignoring any and all teenage boundaries, she cupped her hands around his still slightly child-chubby features and kissed his forehead. “If you want to tell me that things are ‘shit’ in future, let me know and I will make time for you. You are no less important than your sisters.” She wrapped her arms around him and smothered him with a hug that she maintained until he had to physically pry her off, leaving both of them laughing at the effort.

Upstairs, Myka had searched her youngest’s bedroom to no avail and eventually found the eleven-year-old in the attic. “Cat?” she called softly into the room. Her shoulders felt like they held a lead weight and she began to seriously regret suggesting uprooting the entire family from their home for the holidays. _You couldn’t have just taken the guest room?_ It seemed like the simplest answer, but in reality, they still wouldn’t have had the Christmas that they were used to. “Hey,” she said as she found the girl leaning against the wall, a cushion clutched against her chest. With entirely too much effort she felt, Myka lowered herself to the floor. “Cat, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

The girl shook her head and buried it into the cushion. She felt her mama’s arm wrap around her shoulders and gradually tipped to one side so that she leant against the adult. Breathing in her mother’s scent, she immediately felt her muscles relaxing and a sense of calm seep into her veins. Though her discomfort began to recede, she still didn’t have the words to explain how she was feeling. “Are we taking Pappy and Grandma Ellie to the bookshop for Christmas? We can’t leave anyone behind.”

“Helena talked to them last night and they’re happy to join us. Though they might prefer to sleep upstairs rather than on the floor with the rest of us,” Myka informed the pre-teen. “Do you think we can have a nice holiday celebration at the shop?” she asked cautiously. A heavy head nodded against her arm and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

Catherine smiled a little and craned her neck to look up at her mother. “I think it’ll be fun. Are we really going to sleep on the floor?”

“Well, your mother told me that you all have self-inflating mats and/or cots that you can quickly set up. Yesterday, Christina and I rearranged all of the furniture so we have a nice big space and the big tree is all ready to be decorated.” As she talked, the regent felt her daughter’s body relax a little more and she soon realised that the girl’s worries probably had less to do with their Christmas arrangements and more to do with the loss of people who lived permanently at their house. She had never wanted her memories back more than in that moment. Heracles’ plan might well have been to distract her and HG, but the impact of that attack was hardest on her children and she found more and more than she wanted him to hurt. “I’ve started to get all of the food ready, so all that we need are presents and people. Namely, you,” she joked and flicked her finger against a nose, eliciting a slight chuckle.

“Can we have a camp-fire?” Catherine asked, shooting the regent a mischievous look.

“Haha, I don’t think the insurance would cover that,” Myka replied and scruffed up the girl’s hair. “We might manage a few candles though, if we’re very careful with them. Books are very flammable, you know.”

“Or inflammable,” Cat shot back with a grin.

“Yes, smarty pants – they mean the same thing.”

“Weird.”

“Very,” the regent agreed. Deciding that she couldn’t ignore the reason that they were in the attic and not eating lunch, she stroked the girl’s locks into a less unruly mess and gathered her courage. “Cat, are you upset with Christina because she wants to move away?”

Having felt the shift in her mother’s body, Catherine had half anticipated the change in the conversation and tensed instantly. “No one wants to live with us anymore.”

Knowing that ‘no one’ probably meant _her,_ Myka felt the words tug at her heart-strings, but she wanted to address the other issue first. “Your sister is an adult, sweetheart. It must be hard to see her coming and going, but that’s a normal part of growing up. Eventually, you will want to be independent too and we will support you as much as we can.” She watched a reluctant nod and leant down to kiss the top of her daughter’s head. “I know you haven’t enjoyed me being away,” she began with the harder topic. “I don’t remember living here, but I know now that this is my home and it _is_ where I want to live, it’s just taking me a bit of time to be ready to come back.”

“Because of Mum?”

“Yes, but because of me too.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it, Cat.”

“Don’t you love her?”

“That’s not the issue… I fell in love with Helena very quickly. But when feelings hurt you, it can be hard to trust them again. So, while I still love your Mum, I don’t know how to trust that it won’t hurt me again, but I am trying, sweetheart and it is getting easier.” She eyed the pre-teen carefully. “Does that make any sense?”

“I think so. Why do people want to hurt us?”

“I’m not sure. For some of them, it’s because we’re different. For others, it might be because we choose to protect something that they want.”

“The Warehouse.”

“Yes.”

Catherine thought about this for a while, but whatever conclusion she came to, she kept it to herself. “Ok,” she said eventually and pushed herself to her feet.

They made their way downstairs and managed to get through the rest of lunch without further incident, but Myka couldn’t help her mind from wandering back and forth between her conversation with Cat and her developing relationship with Helena. She knew that she really wasn’t ready to live with the Victorian as a couple and she couldn’t imagine living in the guest bedroom even if it was only temporary.

She wondered if they’d ever experienced a period in their marriage when one of them had taken refuge in or been relegated to another part of the house. As they were left alone in the kitchen after they’d all finished cleaning up, this was the first question that came out of her mouth.

“We very rarely went to bed with an argument unresolved. Or at least, without having made some kind of concession toward each other,” Helena responded. Seeing Myka’s sceptical look, she felt the need to explain, “Early on, when Catherine was still quite young, Fredrick was in competition with her for attention and Christina was a typical teenager, we were exhausted and bickering about every little thing. One night, we had a rather spectacular disagreement and I took myself off to the guest room.”

“And?”

“It was awful. Neither of us had properly learned how to block our empathic bond and it was as if every miserable thought I had was magnified by one of yours, and visa-versa. That was motivation enough to want to avoid a repeat incident.”

“So, it was having that bond that made you work things out?” the brunette wondered as she tried to imagine their situation. There was something oddly comforting about hearing of their downs as well as their ups, but at the same time, it only confirmed her concerns.

“We worked things out because we wanted to,” HG clarified, wanting to give no impression of having had a magical fix-all. “I suppose the bond merely forced us to go about it in a particular way.” She eyed her wife for a moment and tried to imagine the thoughts that were swimming around her head. “I can guess what you’re thinking, Myka, but you are either ready to move back home or you are not. It will benefit no one if you move in before you are ready.”

Myka opened her mouth to contradict the assumption, but realised quickly that she had been contemplating that very thing. “Y’know, when you say things like that, it makes me wish that I was readyf.”

Helena placed her hands on Myka’s hips and brushed a kiss against her mouth. “No adventure worth having is without its complications and our family is the best adventure of all.”

* * * * *

Steve stared out at the members of Gamma squad as they ran through their drills and wished that he could enjoy the show. No matter that he was a… well, not currently happy, but a married man – he was alive enough to appreciate a few well-built physiques in action. If things were different, his husband would have been sitting right there next to him, taking notes and arguing about which was more attractive, arms or ass.

He sighed. How could he not have known that his significant other was a sleeper agent? His lie-detector sixth-sense had failed him for the first time in his life and he didn’t know where to turn next. Before he was aware of what he was doing, his mind turned to his last significant ex and remembered sharply how Liam’s lies had stung. So he hadn’t been a great cook and his tea had been undrinkable; right now, he felt like he wanted to trade all of his problems in for a few stupid fibs. _Some husband I am!_

No amount of meditation had been able to clear his mind or help him find a sense of peace with how his life was at present and he felt completely lost. Once or twice he’d called Myka at the shop to check that everything with the business was running smoothly and that Jason had not left any nasty surprises during one of his black-outs. Everything appeared to be fine, but he’d hung on to talk with her for almost an hour about how things were going with HG and came away with only a mild feeling of envy instead of the hope he’d been searching for.

Sitting, staring into space, he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching until a figure plonked themselves next to him and bumped his shoulder gently.

“Enjoying the view?” Claudia asked as she bit into an apple and gazed out at the four figures in the trees.

“What do you want, Claude?” he asked, his tone clearly suggesting that he would rather not have company.

“Lookin’ for you, Sulky Sue,” she answered and deliberately took an extra-large bite of her snack, grinning maddeningly at her friend until he was forced to swat her away. “You know, if the butts and abs aren’t distracting enough, I’ve got blu-rays of Tatum’s greatest hits in my room?”

In spite of himself, Steve smiled sadly at his friend’s antics and shook his head. “Not even Tatum can reach me right now, babe.” He glanced back at the island’s medical building and nodded towards it. “How’s it going in there?”

“JJ’s holding up well. He wants answers more than any of us.” She glanced sideways at the ex-ATF agent and waited for the expected response.

“He still won’t see me?”

The caretaker chewed her lip. “I told him he’s an idiot, but he’s not listening. He says it’s bad enough that he did so many things without knowing that he was doing them, but he won’t risk doing anything to hurt you.”

“Idiot,” Jinksy agreed, muttering to himself.

“You want my advice?” Claudia asked, appearing casual.

Steve huffed with amusement. “As if I could stop you.” Seeing her ‘don’t mess with me’ face, he nodded. “I always want your advice. I don’t have to like it, do I?”

“Pfft, no!”

“Go on then,” he answered and gave her his full attention.

“Stop being ‘Mr Considerate’ and get in there whether he likes it or not,” she told her friend firmly.

“But…”

“No buts. We have enough man power to keep him under control if he starts listening to Satan’s Special Kill-Time hits again. So, in the meantime, you two need to be where you can start workin’ through things.” She gave him a long, hard look that brooked no argument and reached out to pinch his arm when he didn’t immediately bow to her wisdom.

“Ow! Jeeze, Claude,” Steve complained and rubbed the spot that she’d assaulted. “I think that qualifies as bullying in the workplace.”

“Silly rabbit, this is a swanky, private holiday resort slash artefact-rehab centre. Minor physical coercion is in our complimentary best-friend-for-life fine print.”

“I want a refund,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, no returns or refunds.” The caretaker scrambled to her feet and offered a non-apple-juiced hand to her friend to help him up. “Go be with your man, Poopy. If he was battling with a parasite or a cancer you’d be fighting to be there with him, right?”

Steve looked up sharply from where he’d been examining a twisted blade of grass, opening and closing his mouth as he searched for something to say. “Damn,” he spat simply, realising the obvious logic. As tears sprang abruptly into his eyes, he stepped into the caretaker’s space and pulled her in to a hug. “Thank you.”

“No sweat, Jinksy. We gots to stick together if we want to kick ass yo!”

Finally, a genuine chuckle bubbled up from Steve’s chest and made them both smile. “My hero,” he teased and turned with her to begin the walk back to the medical unit.

* * * * *

Heracles tapped the end of his pen against his chin as he considered the ice-trapped figure of former agent Kipling. The man _had_ mellowed somewhat after losing his hand – well, he’d been less abrasive and more subdued – but the heir was relieved to have the odious man out of the way for now. Spending the next unknowable months and/or years listening to Kipling’s jealous ramblings about Helena Wells was not something he wished to tolerate. More than a few times he had suppressed the urge to wrap invisible hands around Kipling’s neck and only a gut-deep knowledge that he had yet to fulfil his purpose stayed the heir’s hand.

Besides Kipling’s attitude, the slowly worsening stench of rotting flesh had been getting too much and so Heracles had insisted on throwing him back into his icy coffin. With a promise of allowing the man an outlet for his violent leanings at his next release, the undead agent went willingly.

The pen came down to rest against the table and the heir watched it roll towards the edge, curiosity filling him as he waited to see if it would fall or come to rest on the precipice. Such was life and its many battles; most successes or failures hanging in the balance, waiting for a catalyst to tip them one way or the other. Change might seem sudden to the unassuming, but often it was years in the making, visible only if one knew to look for the writing on the wall.

For a very long time now, he’d observed and manipulated, becoming surer of his success and increasingly hardened to the fate of innocent victims left in his wake. The voice of his conscience, which had been loud and opinionated in the formative years after his father’s death, was little more than a whisper now. The other voice, eternally seductive and persuasive, had gradually taken over, marking his every thought with malice, cunning and an unwavering faith in his destiny to control the Warehouse. Never had he questioned – to what end?

This self-appointed sequestering that he and his followers were under was an idea that came to him during the time of Warehouse 9. Over the centuries, he’d existed in relative obscurity and had drawn very little attention to himself, but as his influence experienced an abrupt boost, he found more and more questions and obstacles thrown in his path. At the time, he’d been vulnerable and since he’d instinctively known that the Warehouse was nowhere near in his grasp, he’d organised a strategic retreat, transitioning early into the body of his young son and leading everyone but Cassandra to believe that any threat had died with his previous body.

And so, regardless of his personal preference, he worked far below the radar and removed himself routinely from the ever-marching world until he felt once again that his interference was necessary. When Cassandra stalked into his study, her face a picture of a gathering storm, he had to force himself to hold tightly onto that thought.

“If you come bearing distressing news, I would ask that you take a moment to compose yourself,” Heracles told the commander softly but firmly. It didn’t always work, but condensing everything down to the simple facts made it easier to keep his cool when he learned things that he didn’t like.

Nodding sharply, the imposing former-slave marched towards the crackling fire and stared into its depths. When she turned a moment later, her fury had transformed into a controlled, dark focus. “Your son’s watcher has taken him from the country. She slipped off the transport with him as your guards were accompanying them to the city.”

Silence filled the room as Heracles stared into space and Cassandra brewed on her spot, waiting expectantly for her orders. She had witnessed her idol’s transition between bodies many a time, so the boy was almost as important to her as the man sat before her now. Since she would do any to protect or avenge her saviour, she began to envision the many ways that she could track Mathild and bring her to justice. Rather than seeing her old friend’s gathering anger though, as she watched, she witnessed a gradual calming behind his eyes.

The man known to most of his followers as Lloyd Spenser-Chapman, rose from his seat and began to pace the length of his study, his thoughts working overtime to listen to and process the voice of wisdom that he had learned to trust. As always, he felt the deep annoyance and hatred for those of his followers who disobeyed his orders and failed to meet his expectations, but in the shadows of this unexpected escape, he sensed potential. “To where does she appear to be heading?”

“West. To _them_ I believe.”

“And how exactly did Mathild learn about _them_?” he wondered aloud.

Cassandra hesitated uncharacteristically, but it was indignation and a whole new wave of rage that stilled her words. “Your guards gossip like old women. I should cut out their tongues!” she hissed.

“Satisfying and deserved as that might be, it would be difficult to explain should anyone question their reticence. No, I have a feeling that this unfortunate breech may yet be used to our advantage.”

The commander’s face morphed into a fixed expression of confusion and concern. Regardless of her absolute trust in his vision and decisions, she often found it difficult to see the intricacies of his plans for how their mission could unfold. “You are not angry? I do not understand.”

“You mistake me, my dear,” Heracles replied as he wandered over to his personal bar and poured two conservative measures of an amber liquid. “I am incensed by her audacity of course, but I am somewhat amused by her bravery.” He held out a crystal tumbler, encouraging her to take it. As he returned to his chair, he sipped his own drink thoughtfully. “You will see to it that she pays for her insolence, but not yet I think. Ansgar is of my blood – he will not be able to resist the call when I have need of him. His experiences might become my own, in time. This blunder could provide us with an insight that might otherwise have eluded us.”

Cassandra considered the plan with a frown, not trusting that their enemies would not also take advantage once the boy was in their possession. “You believe that Ansgar will be unharmed?”

“Whether the thought crosses their minds or not, they will not cause him undue harm. As far as they are concerned, he is an innocent victim of my nefarious plans for control of my father’s kingdom. I expect that they will take precautions however.” He followed the thought through his mind for several seconds in silence. “Most likely, they will hide him where they’re hiding all of their other most sensitive movements. I see potential for finding the centre of the caretaker’s operations.”

“We can strike where they feel safest,” the commander added, eager to reclaim the failure that she felt keenly.

“Possibly, but until then,” he began, turning back to the table and reclaiming his pen. “Do your best to track my son’s whereabouts and make sure that the traitor is indeed going where you predicted. I truly will strangle someone if she is stupid enough to try to hide him on her own.”

“I could leave immediately if you wished for my personal touch?” Cassandra queried hopefully, though it was clear that she was unsurprised when he shook his head.

“You cannot afford to be seen. None of our closest assets can. We will rely on this century’s technology to be our eyes.”

“And if she disappears with him?”

“As unlikely as I find that scenario with the number of cameras recording the daily toil of the hoi-polloi, I will review the situation as changes arise. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir. Crystal,” the commander assured the heir and replaced her empty tumbler back where it belonged, leaving it for the staff to clean as she pivoted to return to her wing of the generous house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter of Part Two to go. Next up: more of Christmas, some sexy times, a little angst and someone gets a telling off. ;-)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, this is the last chapter of 'The Battle - Part Two' and my last update for a while.  
> Part Three is growing but slowly. I have no idea when it'll be ready to share with everyone, but I am working on it steadily. Watch this space!  
> As always, thank you for sticking with me. I'd love to know what you thought of this latest part of my saga.
> 
> Oh, and if anyone speaks German and wants to give me any help with the dialogue at the end, let me know!

Fredrick looked smug as he watched his Aunt Tracy, Uncle Kevin and his cousins, and then Pete, Lila and their children, enter the bookshop with all of their overnight belongings and Christmas paraphernalia. He’d thought of something that would make the holidays better for everyone: more family. The bemused expression on his parents’ faces when the knock at the door revealed not one, but two extended family units prepared to bunk down for the night, made him chuckle to himself and after being in half a sulk for the last week, the teen finally began to feel more like his usual self.

He met Sophie and Daniel at the door and led them straight to the back area where he’d set up his own cot, as far away from the adults or younger siblings as he could. He’d seen Cat staking out her sleep-space closer to their parents but had no idea yet where Christina planned to set up her bed. He knew that it’d be closer to Tommy, but whether they’d mix with the rest of the adults or try to find a more secluded space for themselves, he didn’t know.

Myka greeted her sister with a hug and reached down to help Mikey with the three bags that he was proudly dragging behind him. Tracy rolled her eyes fondly as her youngest son practically threw the heavy load at his aunt and raced off into the shop.

“Dad would never have let us run around down here like that,” the younger Bering noted as she returned the hug and made way for others to enter.

“He wouldn’t have let _me_ run around here like that,” Myka countered with a hard look, which Tracy answered by sticking her tongue out. Green eyes narrowed, old grievances resurfacing for a fraction of a second before the regent shook them off and chuckled at the light-hearted rivalry that they’d managed to build between them.

As the Bering sisters disappeared upstairs, the children followed Kevin to the service desk where all the presents were being tucked out of sight and hovered suspiciously in the tight space between the cash register and the impressive tree that stood majestically in pride of place. Throwing Pete a universal sign for ‘help me with these monsters’, Kevin tried his best to engage the eager trio in a game, hoping to entice them back to where he could keep them in sight.

Once Helena had shaken off her shock and greeted the guests with a warm smile and a cordial hello, she began to rearrange the seating and tables to accommodate everyone. Christina, Thomas and Lila jumped in to help and between them they just about managed to create a space that was large enough for ten adults and five adolescents to gather as a group. It was going to be very cosy once the beds were set out but if push came to shove, there were always the extra rooms in the apartment above.

“We would not have managed this feat if we had not extended onto the back of the shop,” the inventor told her wife emphatically when she joined the brunette half an hour later.

Myka had been helping her sister to store all of the extra food that the unexpected arrivals had thoughtfully supplied, and was hovering by the base of the apartment’s stairs, observing the happy chaos that was now her family. “You’d have found some way to squeeze everyone in,” she responded with a teasing edge to her tone, “even if you’d had to knock up some sort of bunkbed system. I can even imagine you suggesting that we hang hammocks from the rafters.” As she turned her gaze on the Victorian, her voice softened considerably and she thought about the effort that had gone into this day - pandering to her whim – and she searched warm, brown depths for any sign of regret. There was none. “Thank you, Helena. This is just what I’d hoped for.”

“I will always endeavour to make your dreams a reality,” HG replied readily and reached out a hand to wrap it around one of Myka’s.

“You seem to have a knack for surpassing them,” the younger regent noted and squeezed the inventor’s digits gently. “Do you think we should join them, or linger in the shadows a little longer?”

An intrigued brow rose. “What intentions do you have that are benefitted by the cover of darkness?” Helena wondered, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

While part of her wanted to play along and enjoy the flirting, Myka felt the need for more immediate contact and simply stepped closer to slide her arms around the Brit’s shoulders. Her forehead fell gently against Helena’s and her eyes closed, allowing her to just breath in the tranquil sensation of comfort that flowed between them. When she did eventually lean in for a kiss, it was a soft brushing of lips that lingered past the marking of time.

Around the room, eyes young and old watched on as the couple embraced and stood for several minutes just enjoying the feel of arms wrapped protectively, lovingly around each other. They could all feel the change in the air and knew that their heroes would find a way through their troubles and bounce back stronger than ever.

Anyone might be tempted to call it their own little Christmas miracle but really, there was nothing miraculous about the inevitable. Anyone who knew Myka and Helena also knew that there was no keeping them apart.

* * * * *

Myka and Catherine were the first to rise the next morning, but the adult feigned sleep while her daughter creeped noisily from her jumble of blankets and weaved her way through the bodies that littered the floor, making a beeline for the tree and the presents. The regent allowed a smile to pull at her mouth until she was grinning so wide beneath the covers that it almost hurt. With one ear listening to make sure that no presents were being opened prematurely, she watched the figure of the woman lying in the cot next to her own and tried to make the most of the opportunity to see HG so peaceful and unguarded.

So far as she could remember, she had never seen Helena asleep like this. There had been the few hours spent together on the plane back from Australia, but her head had been so full of battling thoughts that she hadn’t taken the time to fully appreciate the phenomenon. Besides, the inventor had found nothing like peace in her slumber then. It was only recently, following their adventure in Montana, that HG had begun to lose the dark circles under her eyes and to fill out around her face again. The softening of her features brought relief to Myka’s mind and she felt hope once more.

Suspicions of artefact interference or some hidden agenda no longer lingered in the back of her mind so, although the memory of Helena’s betrayal still stung, she appreciated that the woman lying across from her had evolved from that damaged shell of a person into someone who could be counted on to have her back under any circumstance.

She wanted to wake up like this every day; to open her eyes to the features of the woman she loved and to smile to herself because she felt loved in return. She was almost there, in that place in her mind where panic had been replaced by the thrilling bombardment of a dozen butterflies. But until she felt comfortable with the stability of their relationship, she had to walk the steps and not leap over walls with abandon. That was what she’d done the first time round and she didn’t want to fall into another unseen pit.

Hearing the shaking of boxes and rustling of paper, Myka peeled back the covers and pulled her socks on before tip-toeing across the wooden floor to where piles of presents were stacked around the tree.

It had taken them over an hour to decorate its bushy branches, the many hands not making for light work. But though there had been a couple of squabbles between siblings (Myka and Tracy’s the worst of them), everyone had enjoyed the process, and the result was certainly a sight to behold. The three families had taken a side each and their styles showed in the mix of colours and themes on display. If Catherine’s efforts tipped into the Lattimers’, Lila’s into the Littlewoods’ and Daniel’s into the Wells-Berings’, it only served to bring the entire sculpture together, blending them into one pleasing unit.

Cat’s startled and guilty expression fixed on Myka’s as her mother appeared suddenly above and caught her in the act of ‘investigating’ the gifts. Her entire body froze except for the hand that slowly lowered a box back onto the pile and the corner of her mouth, which twitched into a grin.

Myka shook her head, unable to hide the amusement that filled her. Holding out a hand, she pulled the girl to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go and make some drinks so that everyone will be a little more amenable when we wake them up so early.”

When they returned to the shop floor twenty minutes later, it was with a hot water urn, a selection of tea, coffee and hot chocolate, and the elder Wells couple in tow. HG was awake and stretching on her cot (her body having missed its mate’s close proximity), and several more prone figures were stirring in their beds.

“Mmm, smashing – thank you, love,” Helena hummed into her cup as she took her first sip of tea and made way for others who were gathering into a disorderly queue behind her.

Once the majority were awake, beds were tucked neatly away and those who still clung to the last vestiges of sleep were forced to accept that it was time to get up. There was little grumbling though as the beverages and the promise of presents brought a smile to most faces. The exceptions lay in the back of the shop, where the three teenagers had sequestered themselves.

After the teens morphed from their zombified state into something near human, everyone gathered round to open the presents. In one big circle, they passed brightly wrapped packages to each other until everyone had at least one and then the youngsters were finally given the go ahead to begin opening.

A frantic, exciting ripping of paper filled the room and Helena watched on from her perch beside the tree, her own hand resting motionless as she absorbed the happy atmosphere. A small cough and a nudge against her shoulder shook her from her thoughts and she looked up to find her grandmother’s penetrating gaze boring into her. She read the pride and joy behind eyes that looked so much like her own and felt her chest swell at the motherly approval, but behind the smile something darker lingered – a deep sadness that the inventor could not pin down. Before she could dwell on it for too long though, it was gone and the thick, festive atmosphere chased the fleeting thought from her mind.

“You’ve really grown into your potential, Helena. We cannot begin to express how proud we are of the woman you’ve become,” Eleanor praised her granddaughter and squeezed her husband’s hand as he smiled warmly and nodded along.

“While I miss the scraped knees, torn skirts and dismantled clocks,” Rupert added with a quirk of his brow, eliciting a chuckle from the inventor, “I wholeheartedly agree with your grandmother – we could not ask for more for you today than that which you’ve already made for yourself.” He looked over at his granddaughter-in-law and waved when she glanced in their direction for the dozenth time that morning. “Strength to strength, Helena. Some axioms hold true: your trials have knocked you down but you are stronger in spite of them. I have no doubt that your marriage will stand the test of time also.”

HG was saved the difficulty of answering when a blur of hair and arms crashed into her. It was probably for the best as the lump in her throat was so big that no sound would have made it past her voice box anyway. Pretending that her youngest had knocked the wind out of her, Helena coughed and found small shoulders with her fingers. “You like it then?” she asked as the many _thank you’s_ tapered off.

“I love it, Mummy!” Catherine exclaimed, her childish enthusiasm making a brief reappearance. She turned in her mother’s arms and plonked herself in the adult’s lap. “When can I cash it in?” she asked, holding her ‘Keeper for a Day’ experience ticket.

“Not for a couple of months, my love,” HG explained regretfully. “But I thought we could make a project out of it in the meantime, so you will be prepared for what you might have to do.”

“Is Mama going to help?” Cat wondered after a pause, her tone becoming more cautious with those words.

“We discussed it last week and she’s very interested in being involved. I assume that’s acceptable to you?”

A smile lifted the girl’s features again and she tilted her head back so she could plant a kiss on her mother’s chin. “I wish Mama would live with us again but this is still the best Christmas ever,” she declared before scrambling back to her feet and returning to open more presents.

The day ended with one giant game of charades before the adults insisted that it was past bedtime and began to orchestrate a procession of youngsters towards the bathrooms and into pyjamas. Despite protests, almost as soon as heads hit their respective pillows, they were out like lights and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. The teens fought their heavy eyes the longest but once their parents began to retire for the evening and threatened another early start the following day, they retreated to their own mini territory.

Myka crawled into her cot and pummelled her pillow into submission before pulling her covers snug against her neck. She watched as Helena turned out most of the lights and made her way back to the adjacent cot, making almost no noise as she too began to settle down to sleep. The brunette thought back to her early morning musings and blushed when dark eyes centred on her in the dark. It was only in that moment that she realised how close their beds were and a frown fell over her expression until she remembered her sister’s enthusiasm in wanting to set up the sleeping arrangements.

As if reading her wife’s thoughts, Helena hovered over her pillow, prepared to get up again. “I can move…?”

“No!” Myka whispered a little more forcefully than intended and looked around quickly to find one or two curious gazes looking their way. HG raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she made herself comfortable. “This is fine,” Myka reiterated and almost without conscious thought, she scooted closer.

As green and brown held one another, a hand crept out of each sleeping bag and reached across the short divide. Myka felt a pleasant tingle, or possibly a buzz, in the back of her mind and wondered if it was usual for them. She’d been very sceptical about Helena’s claim that they’d held a somewhat telepathic link, but each day that passed since they first kissed again brought with it an intangible sixth sense. It was terrifying and comforting all at the same time; she wanted to run away while having a fierce urge to push forward.

Falling in love was like the love/hate relationship she’d always had with fairground rides – she fought against the experience at every step until something persuaded her to get on, and then she wouldn’t ever want to get off.

A small squeeze of her hand and a reassuring smile told her that her turmoil must be written all over her face. With a few steadying breaths, she brought her racing thoughts back under control. “Merry Christmas, Helena.” Feeling a rush of courage, she rolled closer, hovering for a few, all-too-brief seconds as she brushed a chaste kiss over welcoming lips.

Fighting the voice that wanted her to pull Myka down so that they were intimately sharing the same cot, HG made extra effort to commit the sweet moment to memory and remained grateful for every morsel of affection that was being offered to her aching heart.

*** * * * ***

**One Month Later**

Shortly after a quiet New Year’s Eve gathering at the Wells-Bering residence, Myka and Helena went on their first official date since their return from Australia. Determined to make new memories, HG arranged for her grandparents to keep an eye on Freddy and Cat while she allowed her wife to drag her to the local ice-rink. Having always avoided the precarious activity in favour of ‘dry land’, she had never imagined an occasion where she would be pulling skates on and wobbling onto the ice, but as Myka’s body had not forgotten how to move, she gladly sacrificed her dignity for an opportunity to hold the American close. Abigail had suggested choosing something that gave Myka control over their interactions while simultaneously forcing them into close contact and it had worked a treat. Not only had they expended a lot of nervous energy, but they’d spent the evening locked in a semi-embrace and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

After a couple of family dinners in the week, the following weekend they’d driven into the city to visit a little-known bookshop as a scouting trip for their own store, taken in a show at the theatre and eaten at a small, back-alley Thai restaurant that HG said they’d been meaning to try for a while.

Tonight, they’d chosen to stay in Boulder – watching a movie at the local cinema, walking arm in arm through the snow-covered park and ordering Chinese to take back to the house.

That was where they found themselves now, several hours later.

Helena trembled beneath her lover, her head tilted back into the mattress as her fingers sought purchase on anything that might keep her grounded. The tremors of her climax seemed to go on forever, reaching from the tips of her toes right to the top of her head. With every nerve ending alight, she felt Myka’s ragged breaths against her neck and slowing fingers inside of her like they were melded into one being. It was a sensation that she had sorely missed.

A small puff of laughter brushed her cheek and she turned blindly to find kiss-swollen lips with her own. The leg that she’d thrown over Myka’s hips slid, boneless, to rest against the sheets while one hand found its way into wild hair. _This is heaven_ , she thought and lost herself in the taste of the tongue that danced with her own.

Before long, skilful fingers started to move away and she couldn’t help the motion of her hips as they followed retreating digits. She felt a thumb against her bottom lip, smelled her own excitement on her lover’s hand and moved to pull coated fingers into her mouth. A restrained moan fell from the woman above and HG smirked at the response. Capturing Myka’s mouth again, Helena asserted some pressure and rolled them over.

For several minutes, they indulged their need to reconnect through lazy kisses and even lazier caresses. Though, when the inventor tried to heat things up again, she felt resistance against her sternum and pulled back to stare down into green eyes with a questioning look.

Myka glanced sideways at the clock. She hadn’t anticipated ending up in bed with Helena, but the evening had been so inviting and the tension in the air so thick that she hadn’t been able to resist. A sudden panic filled her mind though; she hadn’t planned on staying the night and the idea of waking up alone filled her with dread. “It’s getting late,” she began apologetically. Pushing a little firmer against HG’s chest, Myka began to sit up. She deliberately didn’t look back at her companion’s expression, knowing the hurt and disappointment she would find.

“You’re leaving?” Helena forced from her suddenly dry throat. As the brunette made her way to the edge of the bed and began to collect items of clothing, the answer became obvious.

Myka pulled her underwear on and reached for her shirt. “I’m opening the shop in the morning,” she stumbled over her excuse.

HG nodded but she was becoming more and more aware that their physical re-coupling apparently wasn’t going to be accompanied by big gestures of commitment just yet. “You could leave early in the morning,” she suggested in an effort to persuade her partner to stay. “There’s always the guest room.”

It had been suggested before but it suddenly felt very wrong. The only place she could stay was _their_ room, but in her increasing moment of fear, she needed to run. A pained smile settled over her expression. “The guest room? Don’t you think that would be a bit too much like the bed and breakfast?” she asked as she buttoned her trousers and turned to a mirror to see if there was anything she could do to tame her hair. She didn’t mean to be so off-hand with the comment but was aware of how quickly the atmosphere in the room was shifting and needed to squash down her natural compulsion to please other people. She was in full flight mode and logical thought had no place in her head.

Helena pulled the top sheet over her chest to cover her nakedness. Not ten minutes before, she’d been comfortable, even blissfully happy with her state of undress but now, she just felt exposed. “Is that not your intention?” she began bitterly. “To make me feel now, that which you felt then?”

Pausing in the process of trying to flatten wild locks, the younger regent processed the question and briefly wondered whether that actually _was_ her goal, before she rejected the thought and pushed it away. She took a seat halfway up the bed and found the shape of a knee with her hand. The pain on her lover’s face was enough to give her pause but not quite enough to change her mind. Still, it touched the part of her that couldn’t deliberately hurt anyone, let alone the people she loved.

“No, Helena,” she answered soothingly before taking a long breath. “I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind a couple of months ago, but it was a fleeting thought. I wouldn’t do that to you on purpose.” She met dark, slightly glassy eyes and squeezed the limb under her hand. “Tonight was wonderful. I enjoy spending time with you and I love being with the kids, but I’m just not ready to put all of that together yet. I’m sorry,” she added belatedly, recalling the rejection that she had felt every time she’d woken up alone after one of their evenings together. Knowing that she was inflicting those same feelings on Helena now, she began to wonder whether their impulsive night of passion had been a mistake.

HG took note of the change in her wife’s demeanour and visibly pulled herself back together. She shook her head. “You don’t need to apologise, love. I was getting ahead of myself. I shouldn’t expect so much from you so soon.” They shared a small, understanding smile and she gathered enough resolve to slip out of the bed and pull a night-shirt from a chest of drawers. She felt eyes on her back as she lifted her arms to pull the garment over her head and allowed a genuine smile to creep back onto her face. _Baby steps._

“Faint heart never won fair lady?” Myka teased softly, an apology lacing every word.

“But absence makes the heart grow fonder, I hope,” Helena replied and moved into her partner’s space, laying her arms casually over the American’s shoulders and bringing them in kissing range again. “I should think of this as another opportunity to date and woo you,” she added, hoping to make light of the situation.

Myka brought her hands to the inventor’s waist and leant in to kiss her gently. _Why are you leaving, stupid?_ “I would like that. I know that I was actually living this for many years but I don’t know what that felt like. You know that I want to be here eventually though, don’t you, Helena?” _You could be here right now! You just have to stay!_

“I do now,” HG replied as a weight lifted from her mind. “You will always have a home with us, Myka. And when you’re ready, we will make it work, no matter what you need.”

 _You’re not listening at all, are you?_ “When I’m ready, all I’ll need is you and the kids,” the brunette insisted and stole one last kiss before pulling out of the embrace and promising to return in a couple of days.

Alone again, Helena crawled back under the sheets and let a myriad of emotions settle over her in the aftermath of the day’s events: blissful satisfaction, guilt, hope, disappointment, to name a few. The lingering scent of passion should have been comforting enough to lull Helena into slumber, but the rapidly cooling sheets beside her were quietly tormenting and kept her hanging on the precipice between the waking world and the reprieve of sleep. As she willed her world to go dark, Myka’s words replayed in her head – _I want to be here eventually… all I’ll need is you and the kids… I wouldn’t do that to you on purpose…_

Those last words sounded louder in her head than the others. Her wife didn’t want to hurt her, emotionally or otherwise, but the thought had crossed the American’s mind, and that alone pained HG. She deserved to feel the same kind of uncertainty and confusion that she’d subjected Myka to so long ago. She wished that she knew when it would end though. _This is temporary. She is coming home,_ she told herself repeatedly as the euphoria of the evening’s activities began to fade and tears pricked behind closed lids. Needing an anchor, she grabbed the pillow that she wasn’t lying on and clutched it to her chest, curling her body around it as she buried her face into the heavy cotton that still held traces of Myka’s scent.

* * * * *

Christina stood behind the cash register, a wistful smile playing on her lips as she went through the motions of preparing for a busy day at the store. She’d stayed up later than usual, reading in the living room upstairs while she waited for her Mama to return from her date. When the hour had passed midnight and there was still no sign of her, the young woman had closed her novel with a satisfying snap and crawled into bed under the assumption that her parents were finally back where they belonged – together.

It was a shock then, as she finished preparing the register, to hear the sound of feet on the stairs, leading down from the apartment. Not wanting to take anything for granted, she slid her hands under the desk, wrapped the fingers of one hand around something solid and heavy, while the other hovered over the panic button. As daunting as the idea of an intruder was, she found herself almost wishing for one; the alternative would mean that last night hadn’t gone so well and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could watch her Mum suffer the absence of her Ma at home.

A head of curly, mixed grey and brown hair came into sight, followed by a tired smile, and Christina felt an irrational surge of anger hit her. “What are you doing here!?”

“What?” Myka came to an abrupt halt at the irate tone in her daughter’s voice and looked around her in confusion. Resuming her movement cautiously, at Christina’s unchanged expression, she raised a brow. “Why do I suddenly feel like you’re the parent and I’m sneaking in after being out all night?”

“Why _weren’t_ you out all night?” the young woman replied, her arms folding over her chest.

The regent processed the words and, realising that Christina had wanted her to spend the night in Boulder with Helena, she felt shame and embarrassment, quickly followed by annoyance and indignation. “I don’t think it’s any of your business what your Mum and I do on our dates.” Breaking eye-contact, Myka breathed slowly through her nose and wondered where her sudden anger was coming from. It absolutely couldn’t have anything to do with the guilt she felt the moment she left Helena’s room and practically ran from their house last night, could it? She had every right to dictate how fast or slow she wanted to take their renewed relationship without having to feel like the bad guy because she wanted some space to process the intense things she was feeling.

Christina followed her mother into the storage area, all her frustrations of the last few months twisting her thoughts. “It _is_ my business when _I’m_ the one who has to pick up the pieces.”

Myka felt her heart drop into her stomach and turned back to face her daughter, her arms wrapping tenderly around her middle. “What do you mean?”

Now that she had the regent’s attention, the young woman sighed, releasing a lungful of frustration. She averted her gaze and pushed her fingers through her hair in a move that was all too familiar to her companion. “She knows what she did and how she hurt you. So, she’s being the martyr and giving you everything you think you need, regardless of how much it hurts her. And you’re wilfully ignoring her pain.” She watched her mother’s mouth open to offer some form of protest but cut her off, “No – don’t tell me whatever you tell yourself to justify what you’re doing. You’re lying to yourself because you’re scared.”

Myka stared for the longest time, her thoughts whirring before she felt all the strength leave her legs and sat down heavily on a nearby crate. Her head sank into her hands and regret – that she’d felt on seeing the disappointment on Helena’s flushed features – returned. She sensed a body settling beside her and looked up into dark, compassionate eyes. “I barely know how to be a mother,” she began solemnly. “I have no idea how to be a wife.”

To the regent’s surprise, Christina smiled and huffed in amusement. “That’s the beauty of it; you don’t need to. All you need to do is be in love and enjoy it.”

“That’s it?” the regent asked sceptically.

“Why not? You wake up and smile awkwardly at each other in the morning. You dance around who gets to use the bathroom first and somehow end up in the shower together. You have arguments over stupid and random things, cry, make up and fall asleep in each other’s arms before doing it all over again the next day.” The young woman held her mother’s gaze and reached over to take her hand. “Love hurts, Ma. It’s scary, I know. But look at Mum – she’s been hurt by love more than any of us, yet she keeps trying. You know why?”

“Because she’s incredible?” Myka asked, almost enviously.

“Because of you,” Christina replied simply, drawing an unbelieving gaze to her own.

“Me?”

The young woman laughed at her mother’s stubborn ignorance. “You taught her how to love again after she lost me. She spent a century trapped in the darkest recesses of her own mind, but a few short months with you showed her a sliver of light… a sliver of hope. She had to learn how to not be afraid of you. Now it’s your turn to find the courage to not be afraid of her.”

Myka licked her lips nervously, her stomach gripped in the tight pinch of someone who was about to take a giant leap of faith. She had hoped to put this off for a bit longer. To enjoy having a lover from the relative safety of her childhood sanctuary. It was cowardly, she knew that, but she had just wanted a couple of weeks to settle into her new reality. Not at the cost of causing Helena more pain though. She was being honest when she admitted to HG that she had every intention of moving in with her, so perhaps there was a compromise that could be made.

She nodded slowly. “I love your mother,” she whispered. “It was easy to forget that when I was so angry with her. Now… I don’t know. I guess I am just afraid of being hurt again.”

“She’s probably told you to take your time, right? So that you’re sure about what you want?” At the regent’s nod, she rolled her eyes. “Can you seriously see yourself with anyone else, ever?”

“No,” Myka answered readily.

“So how can you _not_ be sure about what you want?”

 _Wow,_ Myka’s brain exclaimed as she absorbed the obvious answer in those words. “Are children supposed to make their parents feel so foolish?”

“I’ll take that as confirmation that I’m right and you’re accepting my superior logic.” Christina stood abruptly and set her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do about it?”

Taking a longer time to stand, the regent sucked in a breath and slowly smiled. “I’m going to call your Mum today and arrange our next date,” she declared and then marched back into the shop.

“What!? That’s it?” Christina cried and stood, stunned for a second before she followed her mother.

Myka leaned against the front desk and stared the young woman down. “You’ve made your point, sweetheart. I appreciate that this past few months have been extraordinarily difficult for all of you, and I don’t want Helena to suffer more than she has to, but this is my choice, ok? Just trust that I have listened to what you said and can take the appropriate steps.”

“You definitely sound like the parent again now,” Christina grumbled beneath a relieved smile.

Myka felt unusually satisfied as she and Christina closed up shop several hours later. She had taken a break mid-morning when Hayley had arrived for her shift and retreated to the apartment to call Helena. Holding the phone in her hand for several minutes, she’d rehearsed what she planned to say while fighting the butterflies that were beating frantically around her insides. She’d dialled before she could chicken out and stood by a bookshelf, playing idly with the spines while she waited for the inventor to pick up.

 _<           What if she’s upset about last night? What if she doesn’t want to talk to me? _These thoughts played havoc with her for what felt like an eternity before the line connected and the ringing stopped.

 _“Hello, darling,”_ HG answered, her tone cautious but warm.

Myka’s nerves abandoned her in one big rush of relief the moment she heard Helena’s voice, convincing her even more that she’d been too hasty in her escape the night before. “Hey,” she replied softly.

 _“How are you?”_ the inventor asked in a nervous attempt to start a conversation.

The younger regent ignored the question; her own thoughts were just too loud and she blurted them out before she could hide them again. “I shouldn’t have left.”

There was a short silence on the other end before HG found her voice. _“What do you…”_

“I panicked… Last night. I wanted to stay but I had this image of waking up alone and… I panicked,” Myka confessed. She took an audible breath and kept on going before HG could get a word in. Before she could panic again, because what she was about to say could have no going back. “We need to talk about when I’ll move back in. Do you want to have dinner here tomorrow night? I can ask Christina to spend the night over there?” she asked in one big rush.

Helena was stunned into another silence for several seconds until a sceptical tone rose from her. After crying herself to sleep and then tossing and turning through disjointed dreams, she dared not hope too much. _“Myka, what happened this morning?”_

The brunette smiled to herself, understanding that her sudden enthusiasm had to be confusing. She was so full of adrenaline after a morning of psyching herself up for this call that she’d forgotten to explain herself clearly. “Christina and I had chat, that’s all. I told you last night – I do want to move in. I haven’t suddenly had a big change of heart. She just made me realise that I need to be more open with when that’s going to happen. So, we should talk about it, don’t you think?”

Helena breathed hard into the phone and Myka had to wonder if she was fighting tears. “ _Yes, I would like that… very much so.” >_

She felt calmer after confirming their next date and agreeing to make actual plans instead of just waiting until she felt the urge to live in Boulder again. Contrary to how she thought she would feel, taking this step had freed her of a burden that she hadn’t known she was carrying. While she’d assumed that reserving her right to hesitate gave her freedom, what she’d actually been experiencing was the weight of responsibility over everyone’s happiness. She’d known that by waiting she was prolonging her family’s pain, but she’d been so focussed on her own fears that she’d missed the bigger picture. Love was messy and so were families, but the only way that they would get through this situation was by being together.

And now that she and HG were intimately involved again, there was no logical reason for her not to be at home in Boulder while they learned how to function as a unit once more. Her anxieties remained with her, but there was a definite overtone of excitement to their fluttering and instead of fighting the feeling, she was trying hard to enjoy it.

Was it the start of a new year and the promise of fresh beginnings that buoyed her hopes, or something ingrained in their timeless bond? Myka had no idea, but as she added up the day’s takings from the till, she decided that it didn’t matter so long as she was happy.

In the world of the Warehouse though, moments of calm clarity could never last for long and a sudden, frantic knocking on the shop door jolted the regent out of her thoughts. She saw her daughter’s head appear from around a set of shelves and they exchanged a look of confusion before the young adult began to walk cautiously toward the sound. Myka slipped from behind the desk and jogged to catch up, her haste putting her just ahead of her child as they reached the door. She glanced apologetically at Christina, who rolled her eyes and gestured for the regent to proceed.

Through the glass partition, Myka found the harried, wide-eyed face of a largish woman who stood suspiciously close to the closed door. The regent hesitated before unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the door open to the length of the chain. “Can I help you?” she asked through the gap.

“Helena Wells?” the stranger enquired, her voice laden with a heavy accent.

Myka’s eyebrows rose. Now that she could see the full length of the woman, she spotted the small boy whom she held before her in an iron grip. “She’s not here right now. What do you need?”

With a vigorous shake of her head, the stranger glanced nervously up and down the street before fixing her desperate gaze on the regent. “Dieser Junge,” she began, appearing to stumble over her choice of words. “Er ist sehr wichtig. Important - you understand? Wir brauchen Helena Wells. Wo ist sie?”

After another shared look with her daughter, Myka caught a nod and turned back to the stranger and her young ward, gesturing for them to wait. “Bitte, warten.” She closed the door to remove the chain and pulled it open wide enough to allow the visitors inside. “Kommen Sie herein. Helena ist meine Frau, aber sie ist nicht hier,” she explained her wife’s absence before introducing herself. “Ich heiße Myka Wells-Bering. Wer sind Sie?”

The stranger threw a worried glance towards the windows before shuffling herself and her charge into the shadow of a large bookshelf. “Ich heiße Mathild und er heißt Ansgar.” She lowered her voice and leant closer to Myka as she found more words in broken English. “He has bad father.”

Myka couldn’t help but wonder at the pair’s origins. While she was confident in her own abilities to communicate with this woman in German, she was honestly surprised by the stranger’s limited English. _She must have been very isolated for a long time,_ she thought to herself as the most plausible explanation. Not that she assumed that everyone should speak her mother tongue, but it was unusual in the developed world not to have a passing grasp of the language.

At the woman’s mention of the boy’s father, Myka’s eyes widened and a name sprang to mind. “Lloyd Spenser-Chapman?”

The woman nodded vigorously. “Ja. Herr Spenser-Chapman ist seiner Vater. Er ist… schlecht. Bad.”

Myka nodded and showed the woman to a nearby chair as she watched the colour drain from her already pale features. “Christina, would you mind staying with our young guest while I talk to Mathild?”

Christina nodded, knelt down to the boy’s level and smiled kindly. “Hallo, Ansgar,” she waved. “Magst du Bücher?” she asked, pointing to a shelf of kids books a few feet away, and then reached into her pocket to pull out the banana that she’d saved from lunch. “Habt ihr Hunger?” The kids’ section in the front of the shop was fairly small but there was a miniature desk and chairs all set for young customers who might feel impatient while waiting for their parents. The young woman pulled out a chair and set a book on the table before gesturing for the boy to follow. “Komm. Setzt euch.”

The boy paused to look up at his protector, waiting for her go ahead. Mathild brushed fingers through his hair and smiled through her fear before reassuring him and telling him to go and have fun. It had been many gruelling hours since they’d left the black forest and she’d been able to do nothing but tell him to stay close and obey her every instruction. He was too young to shoulder such burdens without reprieve. “Alles gut, mein suß. Geh. Habt spaß.”

Recognising the seriousness of Mathild’s declaration regarding the boy’s origins, Myka imagined the journey that the pair must have endured to get to Colorado. She placed a comforting hand over the woman’s forearm and gestured to the chair again before returning to the windows to pull the shutters down. As she turned back, she paused and glanced over at her daughter, who was happily flicking through a book of wild animals and entertaining their young guest with sound effects and funny faces. Knowing the fate that was to befall the child, she was relieved to see him in a safe place, but the ex-Secret Service/Warehouse Agent in her couldn’t help but wonder what devastation these unexpected refugees might have on her family.

She thought about her lover and worried that their newly rediscovered happiness was already under threat. As her heart tugged her thoughts towards Helena, she was reminded that their time together was precious. _All the more reason for you not to waste it._

“Sag mir alles,” the regent implored as she settled next to the stranger and waited to hear the story of how the two foreigners had come to end up in her shop.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose not to include translation because I tried to include Myka and Mathild's thoughts/intentions in the narration. Let me know if you like this or would prefer clearer dialogue.
> 
> Happy Holidays to everyone. Hope it's not too long before I have something new to share with you all!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I love hearing your thoughts. Please review.


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